


Five Petaled Lilacs

by elena_stidham



Series: Lilac Theory [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Break Up, Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elena_stidham/pseuds/elena_stidham
Summary: "Look at the lilacs. Every single lilac contains four petals, but, if one were to find a lilac containing five petals, it's a symbol of good luck; and as a result they are instructed to make a wish, and eat the lilac.Then their wish would come true."--Russian Superstition





	1. Orange Lily and Petunia

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language, a lot of angry angst  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: The Playlist I’m currently developing for this fic! Also the new Arctic Monkeys album since it’s the fucking BOMB  
> Hello! Just warning you now: THIS IS A SEQUEL FIC IF YOU HAVE NOT READ STRING THEORY THEN YOU PROBABLY SHOULD. There now that that’s out of the way, hi!! Thank you for reading String Theory, and I’m glad you liked it!! The responses I got for String Theory was overwhelmingly positive, and because of it, I decided to write a sequel fic based on a roleplay me and my good friend Heather are doing. I’m super excited to go through with this and I really hope you like the sequel too!! If you don’t like it as a sequel, it can easily be converted to a stand-alone fic, but we’ll see. I also would like to thank my friend Abby (abbywritestrash on here) for betaing this fic again, just as she did with the last one! I don’t really respond to questions on here, so if you have a question for me or even a prompt for future fics, send it to my Tumblr!! My Tumblr is elenastidham. But anyways! Thank you guys once again for reading and I hope you enjoy!  
> -Elena

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**WHERE THEY STAND:**

**Distant memories of ten years ago.**

**********************************************************************

There was a certain emotion that only happens when you’re dressing up for a wedding that isn’t your own. It’s a lingering kind of feeling – perhaps a liminal space – but more there was a tender tearing at the heart that made it too distinct from a simple space.

Yuri hated it. He hated the invitation, the preparation, the celebration, and the exit. They weren’t going to last, anyway, so why the hell did it matter if they were going to tie the knot or not?

 “I’m not wearing it.”

He wasn’t the only one that seemed to express this distaste, either. Yuri looked over, seeing the girl pout and cross her arms with a stern glare. She looked cute in a dress; it wasn’t a common thing to see.

Yuri fixed his suit in the mirror before he looked back – the only thing they were missing now were their shoes. He sighed. “You know you have to.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“There’s a lot of things we don’t want to do, but we have to do it anyway because it needs to be done. That’s growing up, Veruca.” Yuri’s voice was particularly cold then, particularly devoid of life. He was talking about other things at the exact same time.

Veruca pouted, not saying anything until Yuri simply walked over and kneeled in front of her. “I’ll make a deal with you: if you wear the dress and you behave, we’ll leave early and I’ll give you a special surprise. How does that sound?”

Her pout relaxed some, the child’s eyes softened around the idea. She pursed her lips for a moment as she toyed with the thought before she took a deep breath and nodded. “That sounds good.”

Yuri smiled warmly at her, gently petting her arms to get her to smile some in return. “You just need to play the game. If you can do that, I’ll surprise you. Deal?”

Veruca’s eyes met Yuri’s, hazel meeting green, and she gave him a curt nod. “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

Otabek was used to playing the game. He did it to appease his family. He did it to bring pride to his country. He’s doing it now to keep his marriage alive.

This wedding was just another level in the game.

After he was ready he didn’t remember much of what happened, but he did see a reflection of himself in the mirror. There was a person there that he didn’t recognise. He took a deep breath, tilting his head around to make sure he didn’t miss a spot when shaving, and that’s when he just looked down at the sink.

There was no simpler way to put it: life sucked.

“Papaaaaa!”

Well, not entirely.

Otabek looked at the girl, smiling wide as he did and he knelt down to be on her level. “What is it, Aisha?”

She grinned with her teeth showing, swishing her dress around and dancing a little in place. “You’re taking a long time. I wanna go dance!”

Otabek just chuckled slightly, about to speak but suddenly he was cut off by a sharp voice. “That’s a nice way to say ‘hurry the fuck up.’”

He took a deep breath, looking up at the green eyes staring down at him. They just weren’t the same. “I’m done, I’m done. Please watch your language around Aisha.”

There was a scoff, then a flicked tsk. “I’ll say whatever the hell I want. Just hurry the fuck up. Aisha, come here.”

Nothing was said at that moment, then Otabek stood up again. He looked down to his little girl with a reassuring smile, before nudging her gently. “Don’t worry, we’re leaving now so you can dance real soon. Go on now, listen to your mother.”

Aisha gave him an uneasy look, before obeying what her father said. She followed the woman out the door, before the three of them got into the car to leave.

**********************************************************************

**WHAT CAME BEFORE:**

**Too much.**

**********************************************************************

 

At one point in the ceremony, Veruca had practically forgotten she was wearing a dress. She found other kids around her age to play with in the ballroom and Yuri hadn’t heard a complaint from her since. He kept an eye on her though, in case other kids were going to be cruel to her or until she starts to look tired and bored.

She was still lively and energetic every time he’d glance over, so he took the chance to get himself something from the food table. They had already eaten when the ceremony first started about an hour ago, so unless Veruca expresses a need for seconds, he just wanted to get something to drink.

Unfortunately, there was nothing with alcohol.

Yuri sighed slightly to himself, settling for some punch in a tiny-ass clear cup. Besides, the more he thought about it the more he’d rather stay sober for Veruca; he had to take her home at the end of the night, after all.

He pushed the ladle into the punch, making sure to get some ice before he carefully poured it into his little cup. When he finished, he slowly brought the cup to his lips, but after one word – one voice – the cup froze right there.

“Hey.”

Yuri swallowed hard. He brought the cup down and felt his grip tightening as his breathing got a little shaky. He slowly turned his head, seeing the voice match the person – there had never been so much pain in recognizing a pair of eyes.

“Hey,” Yuri muttered out quietly, almost like a whisper. He bit his lips, and he waited for the voice to leave. It wouldn’t. It continued to speak, trying to force a conversation where nothing could be made. It was basic alchemy: the law of equivalent exchange.

Otabek took a deep breath, pausing for a moment trying to carefully choose his words and recollect the proper thoughts so the worst won’t happen. “I haven’t seen you in forever,” he said quietly. “It’s been what, ten years?”

Yuri nodded very slowly, “yep.” The word was almost inaudible.

No words were shared for what felt like forever, and neither made the first move to leave, then finally Otabek forced himself to continue to carry the conversation. “What’s … how’s … life, been – for you?”

Jesus Christ.

Yuri slowly brought his drink up to his lips and taking a sip. He didn’t lower his hand, his words slightly muffling his sounds. “Fine.” He took another drink, letting it linger in hopes Otabek would take the hint. He didn’t; he stood there still, as if he was waiting. “How about you?” he asked out of pure curtesy.

“Fine, too,” he replied. His voice died halfway through his sentence, and despite the loud music booming in the ballroom the only thing the two could hear was the same kind of ringing silence as one in a testing room.

Neither of them said anything, and Otabek continued to stare. Yuri shifted uncomfortably when he finished the drink, avoiding eye contact as he stared at a little spot on the ground by his shoes. Finally, after a solid minute that felt like a solid hour, Yuri opened his mouth to speak – to snap at his ex – before suddenly he heard Veruca’s voice.

“Papa,” she said softly. He looked over. There were tears in her eyes.

Instantly, Yuri’s entire demeanour changed, and he found himself on his knees to look at his little girl in the eyes and gently hold her shoulders. “What’s wrong, babydoll?” He asked in a gentle voice, “what happened?”

“I want to go home,” she cried.

“What happened?” Yuri asked again, a little softer once he remembered Otabek was still standing there.

“There’s a girl that keeps saying I talk funny and my dress looks ugly.”

This was exactly why Yuri remembered how much he hated other children. They were all evil – not a single bone of good in their bodies and the only thing they know how to do is echo all the wrong decisions their parents made before them. He hid his anger to Veruca; she had never seen him get angry, and he wasn’t going to let that change in front of his ex.

“What did I tell you to do to people that are mean to you?” He asked her, expecting a different answer than what he was going to get a couple seconds later.

“Punch them in the face,” Veruca replied.

Yuri repressed a small snort, but he pursed his lips together and nodded. He had said that to her once, so she wasn’t entirely wrong, but he didn’t mean it for this case. Then again, with Otabek there all will to look like a softer parent was out the window. “That’s right,” he said, standing up and gesturing his hand towards the small group of kids across the floor. “Punch her in the face.”

Instantly, Otabek turned to her, trying to intervene. “Sweetheart, you shouldn’t do that—”

“— _Otabek._ ” Yuri snapped simply at him. The silence was cut. “She is not yours.”

There was a pause, where the little girl didn’t know what to do, looking between them. Finally, Yuri gestured to the group of kids again, and she nodded, running back as she balled her hand into a fist. If Yuri didn’t want her to hit someone before, he _definitely_ wanted her to do it now after someone trying to override how he’s raising her.

“I’ll be damned if she’s defenceless,” Yuri looked back to Otabek, a sharp look in his eyes that pierced the sun. He spoke as if there was poison on his lips and a snakebite on each word. “If I’m teaching her to fight back against some insignificant brat, you will _not_ intervene.”

Otabek went to speak, but he was suddenly caught off guard by a little girl wailing right next to him. “Papa,” she said, clearly more distraught than Veruca was. She was holding her face – her nose was bleeding. She didn’t even need to say anything before Yuri started laughing to himself; it was sweet, sickening irony.

Otabek gave him a look, and Yuri’s smile did not falter. With a sigh, Otabek turned back to his daughter and took a napkin off the table to tend to her nose. “Did somebody hit you?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

She nodded frantically, pointing towards Veruca who was staring at the three of them with fear in her eyes. Yuri and her made eye contact, and he waved it off. She sighed in relief – she was being tattled on, but she wasn’t in trouble.

“Why did she hit you?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“I don’t know,” she said, her face wet with tears and snot. “I just said she was talking funny and her dress looked strange and then she hit me on my face! I think my nose is broken.”

“It’s not broken, I can tell you that already,” Otabek responded when after some wiping and a little bit of pressure the blood was already gone and over. “But you know, you can’t say things like that to people. That’s mean and it could hurt someone’s feelings.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings!” She cried, already defensive that she did nothing wrong. She looked no older than six, and she was already just like her father.

Her father spoke over her. “I know you didn’t,” he said. “But it’s wrong, okay? Just because it doesn’t hurt you doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt somebody else.”

“Maybe you should practice what you preach, asshole,” Yuri muttered. Otabek gave him a desperate, almost apologetically hurtful look, but Yuri just shrugged in response to that. He looked to the brat. “If you didn’t mean to hurt her then why don’t you apologise to her?”

“Yura—” Otabek began, about to make Yuri eat his own words from before, but Yuri was quick to shut that shit down.

“—Don’t fucking call me that.”

The two stared each other, the green eyes that once carried so much strength and flame had since dulled away into a coldness that couldn’t be cracked. Otabek took a deep breath, realising just how clearly drawn the boundary was, before he just simply nodded and looked back to his daughter. “He’s right, you know. You should apologise.”

Yuri turned back to the crowd of kids, noticing Veruca had already moved on to playing with others, but he called for her anyway. Obediently, she arrived and talked to him very sweetly, “yes, Papa?”

“Your bully has something to say to you,” Yuri gently pulled her to be in front of him and he held onto her shoulders as he looked at the Altins. Otabek went to speak again to defend the blatant name-calling of his daughter, but his daughter was quick to act.

“I’m sorry for being mean to you,” Aisha said, looking down at the ground sheepishly.

“That’s okay,” Veruca said. “I got you good, so I feel better.”

“Now,” Otabek started to speak to Veruca. “Why don’t you apologise to—”

“Otabek,” Yuri snapped again. “She is not yours.” He looked down, already irritated at his god damn bossiness. It always put him into uncomfortable situations and got on his damn nerves. When he looked down, he smiled warmly at Veruca and pat her shoulders, “that’s all I needed you here for babydoll. You can go play now.”

Veruca smiled and nodded and pulled off of Yuri’s grasp and went to go play with the other kids, but stopped. She turned back and looked at the sadness on Aisha’s face before simply extending her hand out to the younger girl. “Aren’t you coming to play?”

Aisha smiled, then took her hand and nodded, running off to go play with her new friend. There was a moment, where the two boys didn’t speak to each other, before Otabek turned to Yuri and once again started to judge his parenting. “She should have apologised.”

“She was completely fine,” Yuri said coolly, not looking at him.

“She _punched_ my daughter in the face.”

“Well, she deserved it,” Yuri said simply. “Your daughter needs to learn that her actions have consequences, and I will not make Veruca apologise for sticking up for herself.” He turned to face him and narrowed his eyes, his voice condescending. “I teach her to have a spine.”

Otabek groaned. “Yuri, for Christ’s sake—”

“—Lecture me all you want, but I’m raising Veruca how I see fit. Your opinion means nothing to me,” he lied. He believed. Otabek paused, taking a deep breath before just giving up on the subject altogether.

“I know you’re still upset—”

“—upset is an awfully fucking gentle word,” Yuri said sharply, turning back to Otabek. “I think _hurt_ is the word you’re looking for. I’m still _hurt._ ”

For Otabek, that hurt just as much, if not more, than what happened ten years ago. He thought about his next words carefully, knowing that after this Yuri would probably just throw his hands up and leave. He had to make sure that his next words, even if they were the last Yuri would hear, wouldn’t be something he’d wish he had said in the end. “You know I never meant what I said,” he said finally, softly. “I still lo—”

With that, Yuri turned to face him and threw his drink in Otabek’s face to shut him up. “I may be a lot of things,” he spoke darkly in a quiet voice. “But I am not stupid.” He didn’t want to believe that Otabek was remotely close to telling the truth. Not even for a second. Otabek wiped his eyes and looked at him, shocked and soaked with punch. Yuri’s gaze faltered, and for a moment, he wanted to cry. He wanted to take Otabek into his arms and wipe away everything he had just done, but then he remembered, and he decided otherwise.

Looking back to the children, Yuri called for Veruca. When she arrived, Yuri made sure that his last words to Otabek would be to hurt. “Get your coat on,” he said to her. “I refuse to let you be hurt by an Altin.”

**********************************************************************

**VERUCA’S SURPRISE:**

**Ice cream and a snowball fight.**

**********************************************************************

 

As Veruca grew, Yuri learned to love cold things. It’s not that he hated them entirely before, but there was just a certain bitterness about the cold that would keep him uncomfortable throughout the entire day. But, as Veruca grew, she brought warmth to the cold. She turned jagged ice into a powdery snow – she turned the tolerable into wonderful – and she didn’t even know it.

And Yuri loved her. He loved her with every ounce of his being and he would do his damnedest to make sure that he wouldn’t turn into his mother. He refused to be.

“Papa, am I going to see Aisha again?” Veruca asked, taking off her shoes when they walked into their small home.

“No,” Yuri said very simply, very adamantly. The girl didn’t question, but it was clear that she wanted to know why and was hurt by the news. He didn’t want to say the harsh truth that the spoiled brat has probably forgotten all about Veruca anyway. He glanced down at her, noticing the hurt on her face and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she said with a lacklustre shrug. “I just thought I made a friend.”

Yuri felt a pang in his heart. He realised that he was too caught up in his own – albeit, slightly selfish – protective intentions that he didn’t notice that she now was back to having no friends in her life once more. “Well,” Yuri thought quietly to her, “I’m your friend.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Veruca mumbled, before moping to her bedroom and slumping into her bed. Yuri walked in, carefully helping her get into her nightgown and tucked into bed.

As he kissed her forehead, he told her one simple thing that she could still quote in her twenties: “As long as I’m alive, I will always make sure nobody will ever hurt you.”

They said their I love yous. They said their goodnights. And after turning off the bedroom light, Yuri was alone.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153385754@N07/40458716830/in/dateposted-public/)

There’s a certain kind of heaviness to warmth – particularly and specifically in the weight of one’s own body – and one that Yuri was all too familiar with. He took a deep breath, not opening his eyes and placing his hand gently on Otabek’s arm, tucking his back against Otabek’s chest and focusing his attention on feeling his thumb gently stroke his bare shoulder.

It was the first night in their new apartment, and neither of them could sleep.

“Tell me if I’m suffocating you,” Otabek whispered softly. There was an anxiousness in his tone, as if Yuri would shatter into little glass pieces if he squeezed too hard.

Yuri smirked, pretending to gag and mustering the best out-of-breath-voice he could muster. “Choking,” he wheezed, trying not to laugh. “Can’t breathe.”

Otabek just chuckled squeezing him tighter and tighter until he heard a genuine reaction out of his fiancé (“Jesus _Christ,_ Otabek!”), before he finally loosened his grip and kissed his cheek. “I can’t believe we made it,” he sighed softly.

“I can,” Yuri smiled. He opened his eyes and turned around, facing him and kissing the top of his forehead. “It’s where we’re meant to be.”

Otabek pulled him close, nuzzling his face into the crook of Yuri’s neck and closing his eyes again. They whisper some soft words, before their voices fade away and they finally find some rest.

Yuri woke with a start in the dead of night; thunder crackled in the sky as his room turned white from the lightning. He quickly sat up – not even noticing now that the room is different than what he saw – expecting to see Otabek there with a flutter in his heart, but then there was nothing. He brought his hand up through his hair, remembering how short he has it now, and then he remembered it all.

With a deep, heavy breath, Yuri laid back down, staring at the ceiling.

 

**********************************************************************

**ONCE AGAIN:**

**He felt like a ghost in his own skin.**

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	2. Snowdrop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language, hints to child abuse  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: “Veritas,” “From Here to Eternity” and “Ryo” from the Devilman Crybaby soundtrack  
> While I’m cranking this out, I actually want to watch something new! I don’t want my entire bibliography to be composed of YOI and phanfics, and there’s no shame in that! I have an idea about redoing Dead Aim Alchemist but through a completely different perspective and storyline, but I’m still really debating. I want to write something from a fresh source, so if you have any ideas about something I should watch or write about, let me know! My askbox and submit box on Tumblr (elenastidham) is always open. I’d love to hear your ideas! Thank you guys for reading and I hope you enjoy it!  
> -Elena

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**EIGHT IN THE MORNING:**

**Late.**

**********************************************************************

They met at this little hole-in-the-wall café in Moscow. Otabek and his brat there already early while Yuri took his time bringing Veruca; it ended up being around 8:15 when he finally showed up. He didn’t apologise about the wait, and yet, Otabek didn’t say anything about it.

Of course, the girls were absolutely ecstatic to see each other again, running into each other’s arms as if they had known each other for the past ten years and finally reunited after a war.

Yuri sat on the same side as Otabek, but made a point to sit just a little further away to widen the gap between them. Pettiness was a fair game in the Plisetsky family, and it was a trait that he had learned directly from one woman.

Otabek didn’t say anything at first. He just _stared._ Not in the creepy, gawky kind of way, but the glisten in his eye was unsettling. He looked very deeply hurt, but Yuri made a point not to notice.

After their orders were taken, the girls doodled into a colouring book that Aisha brought, along with showing Veruca all kinds of crayons that Yuri couldn’t really afford to get her. He knew she wasn’t intending on rubbing the Altin’s clear wealth in their face, but he couldn’t help but feel like wanting to writhe.

Veruca’s eyes were wide and in awe, as if she had never seen so much colour before in her life. Suddenly, after going through the last set of colours, Veruca almost jumped out of her seat, “that’s my favourite colour!”

“Veruca, we’re in public,” Yuri hissed slightly, not wanting to draw attention. But it got the girl’s attention. “You act like you’ve never been out of the house before. Indoor voice.”

“Yes, Papa,” she smiled sweetly, and Yuri couldn’t resist smiling back. He gave her a simple head nod to tell her that he was finished with what he had to say to her, and she went right back to the crayons, pulling out one that was a light shade of purple. “Can I keep it?”

“Sure,” Aisha said.

“No,” Yuri intervened, “those are hers. We’ve got crayons at home.”

Veruca listened to Yuri, but she was still allowed to colour with it, babbling on and on with her friend about the princess they were shading.

“So,” Yuri said finally, turning to face Otabek. “Are you going to actually talk to me about that something you so desperately needed me for, or were you just trying to trick me into gathering with you?”

“No, I was going to talk,” Otabek said, a little quieter so that way the girls wouldn’t hear. It’s not that he was saying things that Aisha didn’t already know, but he didn’t want to take them away from their fun with adult conversations – he was basically relying on the children being oblivious. He took a deep breath, and looked at Yuri in the eye. “It’s about Aisha’s mother.”

“You think I know shit about her?” Yuri asked, raising an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes and turned to his food, starting to cut a small piece of his eggs.

“Yes, you do,” Otabek sighed. He paused, debating on bringing this up but he knew the point wouldn’t get across to Yuri any other way. “She’s just like your mother.”

Yuri’s knife skid across the plate, making a loud screeching sound that caused the café to go into complete silence for just a few seconds. He didn’t turn his head, he didn’t look at Otabek in the eye, and it wasn’t until he heard the two girls start playing amongst themselves again when he finally put his utensils back on his plate. “What about her?” He scowled through gritted teeth.

“Practically, everything,” Otabek said quietly. “And the thing is, we’re getting a divorce—”

“—then what the hell do—”

“—and she’s trying to take custody over Aisha.” If this woman was like Natasha in any way that Yuri was thinking about, then he knew that it wasn’t at all because of the child. It was for the child support money that came with it. God only knows what would happen to the little girl if she was taken into that kind of home. Yuri stayed dead silent, before finally looking over to him and locking eyes. “You were the only one I knew that…” Otabek didn’t finish, but they knew.

Yuri felt eyes on him, and when his eyes followed to the source, he noticed Aisha quickly ducking her head back down to the colouring book. It seemed the brat also has an issue with eavesdropping. She must have overheard her name in their brief conversation and suddenly wanted to know everything that she could about the subject. Nosy. Just like her father.

“Do you think that we can continue this conversation some other time in private?” Yuri asked, looking back to Otabek. “We’ve got little ears trying to listen.”

Otabek thought for a moment, trying to picture out the rough timeline in his brain for any and all events that’s going to happen in the custody war and where he could fit another chance to ask for help. He nodded, “would Wednesday afternoon work? The girls can play at a park or something which will give us a little bit of time alone.”

“I work late in the afternoon,” Yuri said bluntly, bitterly. “But noon works if you’re really trying to push for Wednesday.”

“Noon is perfect.”

It rained of silence then, the thundering pitter patter crashes against the pages of a book as the two girls showered the pictures with colour. They talked about practically everything, and Yuri couldn’t help but remember: he and Otabek used to talk about the same things.

Sometimes, he missed those little talks. Sometimes, he wanted to talk about them again. Sometimes, he wanted to go back, and forget.

But instead, he remembered.

As breakfast came to and end, Yuri helped Veruca get her coat on, but Otabek seemed reluctant to do the same. For the first time since scheduling noon, Yuri finally spoke to Otabek, swallowing his pride and telling him a simple thank you for breakfast. He wouldn’t admit it, but it was the best breakfast he’s had in months.

The girls started saying their tearful goodbyes, acting like they weren’t ever going to see each other again. Yuri watched them with a blank expression on his face, as if he was trying to live through the eyes of youth one last time. He didn’t even notice, at first, Otabek gently saying his name. It wasn’t until a gentle touch of his arm to snap him back into reality.

Yuri quietly leapt back, looking up at Otabek and tensing as if he was about to be attacked. The sight could have stabbed the Kazakh right in the chest, but he just swallowed it down as Yuri relaxed. “What did you want?” he asked quietly.

“Thank you,” Otabek said softly, simply.

“What for?” He raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Yet,” was all was said in return. There was a mutual understanding, and Yuri just pursed his lips together and reluctantly nodded. If nobody was paying complete attention it would have just looked like he was twitching.

Yuri quietly just took Veruca’s hand, and after that, they walked out the door. While they left, he didn’t even notice the wholesome smile on her face, and how she kept one hand firmly tucked into her coat pocket, as if she was holding something.

They didn’t notice that the girls had made an exchange – giving Veruca her favourite coloured crayon.

 

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**IT READ _СИРЕНЬ_ :**

**_Lilac_ ** **.**

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“Have you ever thought about what would happen when the world ends?”

“Not many times.”

“How did you see it end?”

“I don’t like to look, because it kills me all the same.”

“I mean, we all die at some time. The world is going to end someday.”

“Well, I don’t want my world to end, Yura. I can’t lose you.”

 

**********************************************************************

**ONE FACT ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD:**

**The sky was a perfect shade of purple.**

**********************************************************************

 

Yuri never liked thinking back to his childhood, but he’d be damned if he let someone else go through the same pain, even if this someone else was his ex’s daughter. A child was a child, and Yuri always had a painful soft spot when it came to children.

His hands traced over old photos that had since collected dust, rummaging through yellow tinted documents from his grandpa’s folders, everything that he had used against his own daughter in order to keep his grandson. _Everything._

Yuri didn’t like to think about Nikolai. He didn’t like to remember everything that happened; he hated how it still hurt. It had been a little over ten years.

He took notes of everything he could find, all the little bullets that he could fire through a canon were put to shame with the final missile. He had everything he needed, plus a few things extra that could provide some help in making sure the girl doesn’t end up in a home more than broken. If he knew anything about Otabek Altin, despite him being an asshole, he was honest and he would take care of his little girl until the day he dies.

There was one picture, however, that brought his search to a close. Frozen in place, Yuri stared at a sepia toned capture of him with his grandfather, just shortly after he brought him home. They looked so young then. So alive.

“Who’s that?”

Yuri practically leapt out of his skin, nearly dropping the frame when he turned and saw bright amber eyes staring right back at him. He sighed.

“Hey, pumpkin,” he said, helping her up onto the bed. He showed her the picture, not letting go of the frame and smiling softly. “This is me when I was about five. That’s grandpa right behind me.”

Veruca stared for a moment, her fingers hovering over the photograph and smiling softly. “You look like me,” she cooed.

Yuri chuckled. “What did you need, babydoll?”

“Are you lonely?”

Yuri’s smile quickly faded, his eyebrows burring together slightly as he turned his head to face the child. “Why would you think that I’m lonely?” He asked, hoping that she’d quickly drop the question out of the air. He never deeply thought into how he felt so alone since he had obligations and a little girl to raise, but he wasn’t going to deny the simple fact. “I have you in my life and you make me so happy. How would that mean I’m lonely?”

“Well, it’s just that you have no friends,” she said simply. Yuri snorted in reaction to the bluntness, but he still felt like she had backhanded him with her words. “And I thought you and Mr. Altin would be friends like me and Aisha but you didn’t talk to him during breakfast.”

If there was one thing that she took after him after seven years in his care, it’s the fact that she can observe something as clear as day and nobody would ever notice. He took a deep breath, looking at her for a moment before he finally set the picture in the box aside so he could pick her up and hold her in his lap.

“Listen to me,” he said softly. “Just because I’m alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely.”

“But I don’t want you to be alone,” Veruca interjected.

“I’m not alone, I have you—”

“—I don’t count,” she demanded. “I never count.”

Yuri gently brought his fingers to her lips and popped, not enough to inflict pain but enough to startle her and leave behind a small tingle. “Don’t say that. Don’t you _ever_ say that,” he hissed. “I’m never lonely when I’m with you. I love you and you always count to me.”

There was a pause where Veruca stayed quiet to think. Finally, she looked at him, saying a sentence that made his heart completely wrench. “When you die, I want you to have one of my bears so that way you’re not gonna be alone forever.”

Yuri pulled her close, squeezing tightly and closing his eyes. “That’s not going to be for a long, long, time, babydoll. As long as you’re here we’re never going to be alone, okay?”

She nodded.

The two stayed this way for a moment, before finally Yuri pulled apart and smiled at her. “You know what we haven’t done together in a little while?” he asked with a smirk tugging at the end of his lips.

“What?”

“Boxing.”

At the very word, Veruca practically shot up out of Yuri’s lap, bouncing up and down in excitement as she started tugging at his hand. “Yes! Yes! I wanna train, Papa! I wanna be the best boxer in the world!”

“And the best is _exactly_ what you’re going to be,” he smiled, letting her drag him to the living room and watching her struggle to move the coffee table out of the way. He walked up behind her and helped push the table, but pretended he was struggling so Veruca could feel stronger.

When the table was pushed to the side, he flopped onto the ground dramatically, letting out a deep sigh and laughing. “Phew, I’m so glad you helped me,” he smiled. “You’re so strong, Veruca.”

She flexed, then bounced as Yuri got onto his knees to be her height. He brought his palms up, smirking at her. “Alright Little Thunder, hit me with your best shot.”

 

**********************************************************************

**ONE MISSED CALL:**

**Otabek Altin.**

**********************************************************************

 

There they were, discussing fucking _names._ The rings on their fingers were so present and clearly defined they outshined the sun itself – power of gold – but they haven’t even tied the knot yet and they were already planning ahead. They got so far, they got to _names,_ but they couldn’t stay together to end up that way.

“I like Veruca,” Yuri smiled, leaning his head back closer to Otabek’s hands so they could braid it easier. “If we get a girl I want her name to be Veruca.”

“That’s a nice name,” Otabek smiled, taking more strands between his fingers and incorporating them into the final braid. “I personally like names like Yekaterina or Evgenia or Aisha or names like that.”

“What about if it’s a boy? If we’re not doing Nikolai then I’m pitching the name Leonidas.”

“I like Evgeni.” Otabek shrugged, finishing up the braid just in time for Yuri to turn around and give him a look, grinning. “What?”

“Evgeni and Evgenia. Were you planning on twins or something?” Yuri chuckled.

“I’ll be completely honest that would be an awesome set of names for twins,” Otabek nodded.

“No! That’s ugly and just setting those poor kids up for mockery,” Yuri teased, playfully punching his stomach. “Let me guess, you’d dress them the same?”

Otabek threw his hands up in the air, “that’s what you _do_ with twins!”

“No!” Yuri laughed again, the sound contagious to his fiancé and he couldn’t help but reciprocate. “We’re _not_ doing that if we have twins!”

“Come on, Yura, it’s just like The Shining—”

“—Jesus _Christ_ , we are not having those creepy fuckers from The _Shining_ —”

“—Come play with us, Yuri,” Otabek teased, mocking the voice almost spot on. He brought his fingers to Yuri’s sides and started to tickle, repeating the phrase overtop of Yuri’s constant giggly _no, no, no_ just to add to their energy.

Yuri fought back, laughing and screaming and flailing his body around like a contortionist if it meant the tickle torture would come to and end. When Otabek finally stopped, Yuri play hit him, laughing with him.

“Motherfucking Shining,” Yuri giggled. “God, I hate you.”

 

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**BETWEEN THE NAMES THEY DECIDED:**

**None were shared.**

**********************************************************************

 

“Do you think that Mr. Altin can be your friend?” Veruca asked as Yuri was tucking the covers under her arms.

“Nah,” Yuri smiled. “He’s too stinky.”

“Well, bring some perfume,” she stated as a matter of fact, as if it would fix everything else that stunk about Otabek Altin. “Aisha said that he wants to be your friend.”

“Well, Aisha’s too little to know what friend means,” Yuri replied, trying to control himself on what he was going to say about the brat in front of her friend. “I don’t even think Mr. Altin knows what that word means either.”

“But he’s a grown up, of course he knows,” Veruca’s voice held a slight squeak, her eyes bright.

“Well, I can talk to him about it tomorrow. But right now, you have to go to sleep, okay?” She nodded in response, and he gently kissed her forehead. He told her a short story to help her get dozy, and when he finally got her quiet enough to turn off the light, he went into his own room, sighing like a furnace.

He lied down, the mattress cold and the moonlight beaming in and casting a harsh reality of the fact that he was so, so lonely.

_Are you going to become friends with me or not?_

Yuri could almost hear these words right next to him. He didn’t even want to look, knowing that Otabek wouldn’t be in the empty space but a part of him still wished he believed that nothing ever went wrong.

But that’s the thing: everything went wrong.

He wished things were different. He wished life was better – not just for him, for the little girl that would always have a sparkle in her eye, even when she’s see something but never ask for it because she knows that Yuri could never afford it. He wished everything was better, but things had to go to hell and they were _stuck._

He remembered being a child and promising himself that when he’s a parent, his children would have the best lives they could ever live and never have to worry about a damn thing. And yet, there he was, being a complete _failure_ for his little girl.

Yuri didn’t even realise that there were tears staining his cheeks, he didn’t notice how his chest heaved and everything felt heavy, he didn’t notice that despite tucking her in and kissing her goodnight, Veruca could hear everything right outside his door.

 

**********************************************************************

**JUST TO ADD SALT INTO THE WOUND:**

**A part of him was still in love with Otabek Altin.**

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	3. Sage and Chamomile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language, allusions to child abuse, slight sexual themes  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: Max Richter’s “non-eternal,” the Neon Demon soundtrack, the Gone Girl soundtrack  
> This one was a little bit more difficult to crank out, since everything I want to write isn’t until at the very least chapter five, but it’s okay! I cranked this out anyway. I love reading your guys’ comments, so please keep commenting, and it helps me write! It really warms my heart to see you all reacting to this after reading String Theory, and let me tell you that this is something I’m really hoping will turn out as good as I hope. And so far, so good! But anyways, I don’t really respond to comments on here since I never know what to say other than “akdlsjdlfjslf ahhhhh thank youuuu ily” but if you would like to send me a message on my tumblr, I’d probably be able to respond (but let’s be real it’d probably be the typical response I just typed out because I’m shit at taking compliments). But if you have questions, that’s another place you can ask them too! My askbox and submit box on Tumblr (elenastidham) is always open. Thank you guys for reading and I hope you enjoy it!  
> -Elena

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**THE PROBLEM WITH GOING OUTSIDE:**

**It was absolutely freezing.**

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Winter was starting to pick up it’s pace in Moscow, where all rooftops found themselves attacked by a trail of ice and a slick sheet of snow lined anywhere that grass once touched. Yuri was shivering, and so he knew for a fact that this weather was too intense for Veruca and Aisha to be playing in, at least for now.

Yuri glances around, not finding a single Altin in sight as he shivered. He held Veruca close to him, making sure that she stayed a little warmer than he did because he knew children have thinner skin. Just as he was about to leave, he suddenly heard his name.

“Yuri!”

Yuri turned, locking eyes with the source of the sound and discovering that Otabek was in his car with his daughter in the back. “Get in,” he said. “I’ll take us somewhere warm.”

He helped Veruca get buckled in the back seat, and of course the two girls were ecstatic about seeing each other again and instantly started babbling to each other about the first things that would pop in their heads. He hopped in the front and brought his hands up to the vents in the dashboard, breathing on them and shivering. Otabek reached his hand over to help him warm some part of his body, but Yuri smacked his hand away without a second thought before there was even contact.

Otabek took the hint and retracted.

There was a few minutes of silence between the two boys, before he took a deep breath and looked at Otabek. “Where are we headed?”

“The AnderSon café, they have a play area for the girls,” Otabek replied as he switched gears and started driving.

“ _Christ_ , Otabek, that place is like at _least_ thousand roubles per person I can’t afford that,” Yuri coughed. “That’s inhumane.”

“Who said you were paying?” Otabek gave him a look, and before Yuri could object for letting his ex cover him and Veruca’s tab again, he continued speaking. “Please don’t worry about it. I have the money and I’d much rather spend it on you and your daughter than my wife, so please don’t be so concerned.”

Yuri just pursed his lips together.

“Can we go ice skating?” Veruca suddenly asked from the back. Yuri glanced up in the rear-view mirror, noticing Aisha lean away from her – they had been whispering.

“No,” Yuri said simply before Otabek could place an input. “I told you, I don’t know how to skate.”

Otabek glanced at him, confused, almost insulted at the words that came out of his mouth just then. He didn’t say anything contradicting, knowing that it would cause more conflict, but he definitely didn’t understand why he’d lie about such a thing.

Quickly trying to change the subject, Otabek gestured to Yuri’s head. “I never did tell you that I liked your hair.” He heard the girls start talking to each other again in the back, and he knew that the ambience was a little more light now.

Yuri brought his hand up to his scalp, running his fingers through the top of it to brush it back some. He had it cut short about ten years ago, buzzing an undercut but keeping the top of it a little longer so there was a small curtain.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

They pulled into the driveway, pausing for a moment to brace themselves for the freezing tundra outside. Even though they were outside for under a minute, they were still shivering when they made it into the café – it’s not even December yet, but every winter has felt like it was only getting colder. Inside, they placed their orders, and the girls ran upstairs to the warm play area.

Yuri couldn’t help but feel anxious – even though he knew Veruca was upstairs with her friend, he wanted to be able to watch her. He wanted to know that she was going to be alright and he wanted to protect her even though she knew how to defend herself.

He tried not to let it show, but it was a little obvious.

“I just wanted to say thank you again for helping me,” Otabek said finally, staring at the closed folder Yuri had brought with him. He didn’t want to open it yet, knowing Yuri would have to talk a lot about his own childhood experiences and he didn’t want to cause any reoccurring trauma, but they both knew that this was the only way to find out.

“You’re just lucky that I have a soft spot for kids, because this isn’t for you,” Yuri said softly, hurtfully. He took a deep breath and pulled open the folder, not letting Otabek have a chance at responding. “The thing is, with people like her you have to use _everything_ you’ve got against them.”

He showed Otabek the small list of things his grandpa used. He didn’t bring the exact documents, but he did bring some files to potentially bring to court as examples. “Like here, he used my school and my skating—”

“—speaking of, why did you tell Veruca—"

“—Irrelevant,” Yuri cut him off and continued on his point. “On top of that, he had to use _anything_ he could find, including her arrests, income, and even where we lived. Where here do you live? It has to be better than where she plans to go.”

“We haven’t figured out living situations yet, as far as I know we’re both staying in Almaty,” Otabek thought out loud.

Yuri pursed his lips together, realising that he was going to leave soon, and probably forget all about him and not even try to apologise for what happened. It’s like they never had a history to begin with.

But they did.

“Find out if she’s leaving or if you are, and you have to outdo her in anything and everything you can think of if you want to keep your daughter, especially since court tends to be favouring of the mother,” Yuri explained quietly. He looked at Otabek in the eye for a moment, before he took a deep breath and shrugged. “Everything else you could need is in the folder. Do you have any questions?”

Otabek took a moment to think, before shaking his head at Yuri and taking the folder. “Thank you,” was all he said for a long while. When he saw their food arrive, that’s when he stood up. “I’ll go get the girls,” he declared, walking upstairs and leaving Yuri alone at the table.

Yuri couldn’t help but think about what life would be like had things been different. What if ten years ago never happened at all? He couldn’t think too long – he’d hurt himself.

A couple minutes later the girls came bouncing to their seats at the table and started to eat their treats. It wasn’t a complete meal – so Yuri took mental note that he was going to make dinner for Veruca tonight, even if he wasn’t going to eat after this.

“Hey, Veruca, when we get home, what do you want me to make for this evening?” He asked quietly, not wanting to have Otabek intervene and say he’ll get them dinner or some shit. He was tired of someone paying for him like he was incapable of raising a child that’s been in his care since the day she was born.

Veruca’s eyes were wide as she chewed on her muffin, humming to herself with her thoughts. “Chicken,” she said simply. She looked at Aisha, then back at Yuri. “Can Aisha and Mr. Altin come to dinner too?”

_Fuck._

Yuri suppressed a groan, and he tried to cover up his no with the classic ‘thinking for somebody else’ tactic. “I’m sure the Altins have their own plans,” he said simply. “They wouldn’t be able to make it, probably.”

“Actually, Yuri,” Otabek mumbled softly, “we’re free today.”

_God damn it._

“Well, you ask them,” Yuri gestured to Veruca. He hoped that she’d retract and say nevermind, but of course, she didn’t back down. Truly, she was a Plisetsky.

Otabek politely took up on her offer, then turned to Yuri. “If you don’t mind, after all.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he sighed as he leaned back in his seat. This was bad. This was going to end so, so bad.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153385754@N07/42560746791/in/dateposted-public/)

It’s dawn.

The sun wasn’t as bright as it used to be.

Yuri was the first to wake up, taking in the silence and soaking in the sunlight peeking through the curtains, until he suddenly felt the bed shifting from the person next to him. He turned around, reaching a hand over and gently placing it on Otabek’s, thinking that maybe in the end everything was going to be alright.

Otabek didn’t say anything, just calmly slipping his hand away from Yuri’s and rising to a stand, starting to change into some clothes for the new day.

“Beka,” Yuri said softly. Otabek paused, and Yuri couldn’t respond, so he just finished putting his shirt on before he made his way to the door.

_“Please.”_

Otabek stopped, turning back to face Yuri for a moment, before he completely gave in and walked back to the bed. He climbed on, gently pulling Yuri up by his arms and cradling him close to his chest.

They didn’t say anything, just holding each other and soaking in the silent sunlight.

 

* * *

 

On the way back, Yuri decided to drive. Otabek was dropped off at the market and swore up and down that he’d be okay with getting a taxi back to Yuri’s place for dinner, so he just decided to suck it up and deal with it.

It had been a minute since he drove anywhere – owning a car was a little pricy in the city – and so he just made sure to take it easy and only pay attention to the road and the girls talking to each other in the back seats.

But somehow, they got onto the topic of home.

Yuri stayed quiet, listening to Aisha rambling on and on about her parents so nonchalantly, knowing that the things she was saying was going to hit her when she’s older and become a little more jarring.

“Well, try not to worry about it,” Veruca said simply. “At least you have a Mom.”

“I didn’t have a mother, either, Veruca,” Yuri interjected, trying to change the subject. . “It’s a lot more common than you think.”

“My Mama just—” Aisha started, but Yuri quickly cut her off.

“—Why don’t you girls talk about something different, okay?” He asked nicely. “I mean, look, Aisha, Veruca is wearing a pretty shirt just for you and you didn’t say anything about it.”

Aisha paused, looking at her best friend’s shirt and then smiling wide. “It’s so pretty!”

The girls moved onto something else by the time they pulled into the driveway, but Yuri couldn’t help but wonder how much of Aisha was already too far gone.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153385754@N07/42560750021/in/dateposted-public/)

There was something electric about kisses on the neck.

Otabek’s grip on Yuri’s wrists were firm, yet gentle, as he gently pressed him against the wheel of the car to where his head was resting on the dashboard, and leaned in to kiss on the part of his neck just above the collar bone. It was a little cramped, but that didn’t stop them from finding a way to make room.

“Beka,” Yuri moaned out slightly, lifting his head to make eye contact. Lips made contact instead.

With one hand sliding up Yuri’s shirt and the other caressing his inner thigh, Otabek pulled away just slightly, enough to give him brief attention before they would continue. He hummed, gravelly and low enough to spark chills down Yuri’s spine, but also to indicate that he was listening.

“Something feels wrong.”

Otabek’s brows furred together, letting go of Yuri and leaning back to let him just sit on his lap, which he did. “What is it?” He was almost afraid that he had just done something wrong, but in reality that was further from the truth.

“I don’t know,” Yuri said softly. “I just feel like something is going to happen to us.”

Otabek chuckled slightly. “Well, we are getting married soon. Are you just nervous about the wedding? We can wait a little longer to tie the knot if you want,” he suggested.

Yuri thought a moment, then shook his head. “I think I’m just nervous. I’m not sure.”

Otabek kissed him softly, smiling tenderly and pressing his forehead against Yuri’s for a gentle reassurance. “I’m nervous too, but I’m also excited. I’m so, so, excited.”

“Me too,” Yuri smiled, a little more calmly. He took a deep breath. “I think I’m just overthinking it.”

“And that’s okay.”

Yuri’s smiled grew into a wider grin, then he kissed him again, pulling him close again as if they were about to resume what they paused. “This’ll probably go away when we get married, won’t it?”

“What, the sex or the nervousness?”

“The nervousness,” Yuri laughed, kissing him harder. “I hope the sex doesn’t stop.”

“Good, I was about to say the same thing,” Otabek chuckled, pulling Yuri’s shirt off and planting his lips directly where his heart resides beneath his chest. 

 

**********************************************************************

**WHAT FELT WRONG:**

**Breaking apart.**

**********************************************************************

 

Yuri walked inside, letting the girls run in first and following behind so he could start a fire in the living room fireplace to make the house feel a little warmer. He walked into the kitchen, turning on lights and starting to get food ready for dinner.

He heard Veruca laughing a few rooms down, and he paused, listening to the sound and smiling softly. It was the most beautiful music that he could ever hear – a ringing giggle that resonated down the hall and danced around his fingertips.

He dug through the pantry for some rice to supplement the chicken, and when he pulled out the bag, he saw Veruca patiently waiting at the hollow doorframe. “What did you need babydoll?”

“Before you say no, just hear me out, okay?” She began. Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Aisha told me that Mr. Altin plays hockey, so he knows how to skate. Can we go ice skating? He can teach you!”

“No, Veruca,” Yuri groaned, putting two cups of rice into the pot.

“But he’ll show you how to skate!”

“I said _no,_ Veruca!” Yuri snapped, darting his head to the side and making eye contact with her. She stiffened, and instantly he felt his own heart break at the sight. He calmed, walking to her and kneeling down so he could gently hold her by her arms. “I understand and I appreciate you trying to help, but when I say no, that means no, okay?”

She nodded, sniffling.

He kissed her forehead. “I’m not gonna let you leave until you smile, okay?” He booped her on the nose with his finger, and she smiled sadly. “A real smile, babydoll.” It took a few moments, before she finally was able to crack a real grin, and that’s when he let her go play with Aisha again.

He took a deep breath, standing back up and running his fingers through his hair. He remembered, how on the ice, the wind would push his hair back as gentle as fingers. He remembered, when he’d skate, that all his senses would come alive, that he’d feel free and secure and it was as if he became a living piece of art.

It was just the irony of all ironies – the very thing that made him feel free ended up becoming his prison.  

He opened his eyes, not even realising they were closed, and he looked down at his feet, tilting them up on the toe gently and gliding it along the floor slowly in a circular motion, like when he was learning how to spin.

He caught himself halfway through the fourth rotation, sighing.

 

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**A FACT ABOUT YURI PLISETSKY:**

**He was as good as dead.**

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	4. Jasmine and Borage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language and sex (it’s not explicit and it's towards the end)  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: My Five Petaled Lilacs playlist on Spotify!! The link is here: https://open.spotify.com/user/twijill/playlist/6Gq9DQVjdthQ8jpCCIDMKX?si=1xaXlpVcSUG6eZ012ZKrJA  
> Okay my biggest problem with this fic is that I’m not good at tension at all ahhhhhh. Anyways, I hope it’s good enough to feel and I can’t wait to keep writing more of it. Remember! My askbox and submit box on Tumblr (elenastidham) is always open. Thank you guys for reading and I hope you enjoy it!  
> -Elena

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**THE TIME OF ARRIVAL:**

**7:39 P.M.**

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Otabek didn’t hesitate to buy multiple bags worth of groceries while he was at the market, bringing them in and just handing them over to Yuri, despite him trying to refuse. Yuri spotted nice wines and meat and even boxes of extra snacks – he knew that he had to have spent a small fortune.

Yuri stayed quiet as he cooked, only speaking when instructing Otabek where to put the food in the kitchen. He pursed his lips together, his emotions bordering on the line between hurt and furious that Otabek would see him this way: pathetic, insufficient. He had been taking care of Veruca and himself just fine for seven years now; granted, money was a little tight, but that didn’t mean they had a shitty life.

But then again, by Otabek’s impossible standards it would be pretty shitty.

“You didn’t have to buy me all of this,” he said quietly, trying to stab with his words. “I’m more than capable.”

“I never said you weren’t,” Otabek responded, keeping the wine out and setting it to the side by him for whenever they were ready to drink from it. “What, am I not allowed to be nice?”

“I mean, you weren’t before,” Yuri said specifically out of spite.

Otabek inhaled deeply through his nose, clearly bothered by what was just said. He held his breath for a moment, before exhaling just as slow and looking at Yuri, who was actively trying to avoid eye contact. “Look at me,” he demanded.

Yuri just ignored his command, despite his tone being one that always made his knees just want to buckle and _bend_. He moved the pan to a burner that wasn’t on, then he turned to go to his pantry and grab something, but he felt himself being grabbed by his arm and carefully yanked backwards, pressed against the fridge. Otabek used his free hand to grab him by his chin and forced their eyes to be level, but Yuri tried his damndest to keep his line of sight to the ground.

Otabek shook him twice, _“Look at me.”_

Gently, he did.

There was a moment where they just stared, unable to move in silence as the ceiling fan brushed the lightest parts of their hair. Yuri had to control his breathing, not even wanting to give Otabek a single ounce of leverage despite him holding all the cards at this particular moment. He kept his lips pursed together, unflinching and unphased when Otabek took a deep breath again, moving his hands to Yuri’s shoulders.

“I know what I did. But that doesn’t erase everything we had before. That doesn’t erase everything _you’ve_ done, either,” Otabek spoke low, dangerous. He didn’t feel threatened because he knew him better – a little too well – but that didn’t stop the chill running down Yuri’s spine. “I know you’re angry. I know you’re hurt. _I am too_. But, that doesn’t change anything about who we are and what we were. I’m not saying to forgive and forget, but I’m just asking for a _chance_ to have even a _fragment_ of what we once had.”

Yuri stayed silent, keeping cautious eyes on the man in front of him. His face was dark, yet absent, and he refused to say anything in response. Not even when Otabek’s grip tightened.

“Yuri, please, say something,” Otabek pleaded softly, leaning in closer to where their noses almost touched. Yuri’s eyes glanced down at his lips and back up again with a blink. He sighed, looking down for a brief moment before looking back up, making direct eye contact, his face disgruntled. “Fuck, it drove me nuts when you would do that to me please just say something.”

There was a pause, before Yuri finally just whispered, his voice cracking, “What do you want from me?”

Otabek’s face softened. He leaned back a little, hurt that despite giving Yuri a piece of his heart again, he still suspected there were ulterior motives to being nice. He went to speak again, but then he heard little voices bouncing down the hallway.

Yuri shoved him back just then, his body slamming against the counter as Yuri quickly readjusted himself by the time Veruca ran up to him with an envelope. He plastered on a smile and knelt down in front of her.

“Is this your Christmas list?” he asked sweetly.

She nodded. “But it’s for Ded Moroz to see only, okay? Don’t peek.”

His smile turned genuine as he kissed her forehead and stood up. “Of course, pumpkin. I’ll put this in the post office for Ded Moroz.”

And with that, she giggled and ran back to her room with a flourish. His smile faded, dreading to open the list – January 7th was coming too fast – but still, he did anyway. He glanced over it, his eyes scanning the sideways writing and he didn’t even notice his arms started to shake.

“Yuri,” Otabek said quietly.

He shook his head, closing the letter and putting it aside on the counter and he took a deep breath. “It’s nothing,” he lied. He hated everything. He hated Otabek and he hated how he could just give his daughter whatever he wanted while Yuri struggled to simply buy meat on a regular basis. But it seemed, this time, Veruca asked for the _impossible._

“Is there any way I can help?” He asked. “Take us out of it. This is just for Veruca. You helped me with Aisha, and now I want to do something to return the favour. I can buy whatever you need me to on that list for her.”

Yuri shook his head again, waving at him. “What she wants doesn’t have a price tag.”

“What is it?”

“Something personal.” Which, in Yuri’s language, was a very polite way to tell him to mind his own goddamn business. The damn Kazakh had always been so nosy, even when they were just friends. “But I guess if you want to rub your wealth in some more you could just get her anything Aisha’s got. They have similar interests, except that Veruca wants to be a boxer when she grows up instead of a dancer.”

Otabek sighed. “I don’t mean to rub it in. I genuinely want to help.” He wanted to continue but it was clear Yuri had already moved on past that topic point. So, he simply gave up too. “Aisha told you she wanted to be a dancer?”

“God, she wouldn’t shut up about it in the car,” Yuri chuckled softly. “The moment Veruca told her that I teach ballet she just went _nuts._ I swear if I didn’t know any better I would have thought she was one of the Angels.”

“You teach ballet?” Otabek smiled. He thought it was cute.

Yuri shrugged, moving past him and back to the stove to finish things up and start getting plates ready. “I didn’t go to a university so I figured I had to use my skills somehow.” He looked over at Otabek for a moment. “So what about you? Since you’ve got all this money it’s gotta come from somewhere.”

“Hockey,” he mumbled, almost ashamed to say it.

Yuri hummed, thinking about the new information for a moment before just dropping the subject altogether. It explained the wealth and it definitely explained why he was still in really good shape, but he couldn’t help but wonder: when did he retire from skating? What made him do it?

Did it all end in the same way?

“Get the girls,” Yuri said quietly. “It’s time to eat.”

**********************************************************************

**WHAT LIFE DOESN’T TELL YOU ABOUT FINANCES:**

**They always had a tendency to go wrong.**

**********************************************************************

 

Stress at this point was an all too common part of Yuri’s life, but it seemed that recently the worries were starting to kick into high gear. It was the fifth competition in a row where Yuri barely made the podium, and he knew if he didn’t win gold this time his sponsors would start to cut back on what they give him.

Otabek didn’t seem to have a problem at all – his nights out as a DJ was starting to pay off with his popularity and skillset, since he was now surpassing Yuri when it came to income.

If only Yuri didn’t twist his ankle, maybe he’d be able to skate better. Maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not he’d earn sponsors. Maybe he wouldn’t have question getting a second job.

Otabek always was supportive, though, understanding that injuries happen and that he just needed some time to bounce back. He just needed a little more time.

**********************************************************************

**THERE WAS ONE THING YURI COULD NEVER AFFORD:**

**Time.**

**********************************************************************

 

The dinner was awkwardly alive and quiet. Veruca and Aisha ate quickly, blabbering together about the games they were playing, spawning new ideas for their next rounds of pretend. The creativity was contagious.

Yuri didn’t eat much – he always would take the smallest portions and limit himself on quantity in case Veruca wanted to eat some more. He knew they would have enough for them both to eat just fine, but he couldn’t help but feel paranoid that she wasn’t eating enough because he’d be taking the resources.

Otabek noticed the difference in plates – and how Yuri was the first one done within a short amount of time – and when the girls were finishing up he slid what he had left to Yuri. “I’m full,” he said, only partially lying. “You didn’t eat a lot, you should have a little more.”

“I’m fine,” Yuri said simply as he slid the plate back. He knew better. Besides, he wasn’t starving, nor really hungry at this rate – he’s rather used to it. “Just finish it.”

Otabek slid it back. “Tell you what, eat until you’re full and I’ll take what’s left.”

Yuri glanced a glare at him, but noticed Veruca staring before he finally took the plate and started to eat from it slowly. She looked back to her food, then offered to push it. He shook his head and gestured for her to finish it, so she did.

Aisha had a tendency to eat fast, but it would make her tired – and this time was no exception. She looked like she was going to pass out sitting up. “Come on, Aisha,” Veruca nudged her, and then ran back to her room to keep playing. Her friend was a little slow from tiredly following behind.

Yuri took only a couple more bites, then gave the plate back to Otabek as he stood up, telling him to finish it as he started to clean up.

Otabek sighed, finishing the plate and then joining him to help with cleaning. “Why do you do that?” He asked. “You used to eat more than anybody I know, but now I’m having to practically beg you to eat.”

“I guess my stomach just shrank,” Yuri shrugged, working on washing the plates as Otabek dried them started putting them away. “It’s fine.”

Otabek wanted to argue, but instead just took a deep breath and dropped it. He reached into the cabinet and then pulled out two glasses and poured them some wine. He sat at the table and brought the bottle with him in case they wanted more. “Regardless,” he breathed out, “dinner was nice, thank you.”

Yuri’s smile was small, and with a blink it was gone.

He sat down across from Otabek, taking a small sip of wine in silence and remembering what it tasted like. It was the good kind – he knew Otabek had to have gone above and beyond with what he’d buy – and in return he spoke a quiet “thanks for the wine.”

There was a moment, where neither of them said anything, before finally Otabek speaks up. “You want to talk about something?”

“Like what?” Yuri raised an eyebrow, taking another sip.

Otabek shrugged. “Anything. You pick.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, huffing as he leaned back and tried to think of something that could be worth talking about with his ex. “Fuck, I don’t know.” He took another sip. “Why did you end up with your wife when you knew she was like…that?”

He took a long drink of wine, before answering the question. “It was a shotgun wedding.”

Damn, that brat really did come with a whole ass stack of issues.

“You just need to get away from her, Jesus Christ,” Yuri mumbled, taking a drink. He felt a little lightheaded, and he knew that he had to be careful otherwise he’d fall drunk very soon – but Yuri was prone to bad decisions.

“Yeah, working on it.”

Yuri didn’t know what prompted his next statement, but he knew that after the words were said there was no going back, and so he had to just hope that it wouldn’t be taken the wrong way. “I mean, you can just come stay in Russia,” he said. He debated what he said for a moment before just sticking with it. “There’s a lot of places you can go here and a lot that you can do with Aisha that looks really good on paper, plus I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Otabek thought about the idea, toying with the vision in his head for a moment as he started to grow more and more fond of the suggestion. “That sounds nice,” he said.

“Yeah,” Yuri said quietly, now starting to imagine what it would be like if Otabek was more common in his life again, but, he did say after his help he would be left alone, so he knew that vision wouldn’t go far. He took another sip, and decided to fuck it. “Do you just…want to catch up? Talk about random things and see how we’re doing and shit?”

Otabek paused mid-drink, then smiled against his glass. He swallowed, then sat the glass down and looked at him warmly. “I would like that very much.”

And so, they talked. For the first time in ten years, they actually sat down and had a conversation other than the basic bare essentials of what they needed to talk about. They talked about the girls and their hopes for them and the weather, they talked about spending time with the kids and their jobs and for the first time in a long time, Yuri genuinely laughed.

It wasn’t the typical chuckle or giggle or other small kinds of laughter at lacklustre humour, it wasn’t the kind that came at the end of every joke; it was the one that used his whole body. It was the one that had tears in his eyes and his hands on his face as he had to cross his legs to prevent an accident. It was the one that made his sides hurt.

It was the kind that only Otabek could achieve – the kind that brought him home.

**********************************************************************

**GOD:**

**He missed this.**

**********************************************************************

 

God, he hated this.

He hated how he could feel everything going wrong. He hated how he knew that the end was coming. He hated how they were tired and growing miserable and trying to hold it together when it all just wants to break into pieces.

He hated the arguing and the fighting and bitterness and the trying and the trying and the _trying_ – when nothing is working. They wanted it to work. They wanted to hold each other and keep themselves up, but a part of them deep down knew that this wasn’t going to last long.

The ring on his finger felt so heavy now.

It’s like they were sand – pressed together in a mould – as if the moment they let go everything would crumble apart.

**********************************************************************

**WHAT HURTS WORSE:**

**The tension or the break?**

**********************************************************************

 

“They’re passed out,” Yuri said quietly, walking back into the kitchen with a smile on his face. “They’re all cuddled up and sharing the bed and blanket – it’s adorable.”

By this point, the two of them had shared the whole bottle – so tipsy was definitely at a minimum here. Yuri leaned against the counter, watching Otabek walk up and put their glasses in the sink and the empty bottle in the trash. Yuri couldn’t peel his eyes away, a tender gaze and a lightness in his chest that he wasn’t able to feel in the past ten years.

“Do you want me to wake her up?” Otabek asked, walking over and standing in front of Yuri. The tight kitchen brought them close, but neither of them seemed to mind.

Yuri shook his head. “I was actually thinking about letting them sleep. You know, a sleepover,” he smiled. “Veruca would love it and I’m sure that Aisha would too.”

Otabek grinned and did a brief, gentle nod. “She would.”

Yuri looked to the ground for a moment, not sure what to say and noticing Otabek’s feet moving closer to him. He could feel him almost touching. It was like they knew what was going to happen, but neither of them seemed to care.

“If you’d like, you can stay, too,” Yuri whispered.

Otabek gently tucked his finger under Yuri’s chin and guided his face up so their eyes met. Their bodies were very close now, and he couldn’t tell if they were actually pressed together or not.

“I’d like that, too,” Otabek whispered back, his hand gently leaving his chin and brushing his hair back and cradling his face there. For all he knew, he was holding glass. His other hand was firmly pressed against the counter to hold him steady, locking Yuri in his grasp.

Yuri’s eyes trailed down his face to pause at his lips, and not peeling them away. One hand was keeping him still on the counter behind him, while his other had somehow ended up gently resting on Otabek’s forearm.

They waited. It’s like they knew, but neither of them seemed to care.

Otabek was the first to speak on it, a calming whisper that lightly caressed Yuri’s skin with the same intensity as their ceiling fan. He knew.

“You know I have to ask—”

“— _Yes._ ”

Their lips crashed with the careful tenderness of an ocean wave. Their eyes were quick to snap shut, their arms wrapping around the other like they were being enveloped within wings. There was a specific tightness in the air right then, pushing them closer and crashing against the hallway. Otabek pulled away for just a moment, have an entire conversation with just his eyes.

_Do you still?_

_Yes._

Yuri took him by his wrist, pulling him into the room next to Veruca’s and locking the door behind him before their lips caught fire again.

**********************************************************************

**THE ART OF A KISS:**

**The taste of red wine.**

**********************************************************************

 

At age seventeen, Yuri Plisetsky was no longer a virgin.

He willingly gave it away during a quick and powerfully loving night while Otabek was visiting from Kazakhstan. They couldn’t finish, however, after a little while it hurt too much and they had to resort to just getting each other off with kisses and love bites.

There was a period after they finished where they just lied on top of each other, taking deep breaths and bathing in the afterglow. Otabek’s thumb gently stroked his arm as they stared at each other.

“So,” he said finally, quietly. “What’d you think?”

Yuri giggled, tucking his head against Otabek’s chest and kissing there before looking at him. “I think it was great.” He almost felt guilty making his boyfriend pull out from the pain, but he knew that Otabek didn’t mind at all. If anything, he’d only be upset if he was in pain and didn’t say anything.

“Well, it only gets better from here,” Otabek promised with a tender smile. Yuri giggled again, and they kissed slow before just going back to locking eyes and taking in everything.

**********************************************************************

**THIS TIME WAS DIFFERENT:**

**This time he was an ex.**

**********************************************************************

 

Yuri’s breathing was heavy and uneven. Otabek rolled to the side and they both stared directly at the ceiling. Neither of them said a word, avoiding eye contact and trying their best to catch their breath and letting the fan cool them off.

It wasn’t working.

Yuri couldn’t think straight, his only thought process consisting of a string of swear words and the fact that he fucking slept with Otabek Altin again. His ex. Who, at the current moment, was _married._

Granted, they were on their way to divorce but they were still _married. Shit. Fuck. Shit! Fuck!_

He didn’t even glance at Otabek, instead, turning his back to him and staring out the window, unable to sleep as he heard Otabek do the same thing. It’s funny – how all this time he had been dreaming for warmth in his bed, but now there was warmth he wanted to drown himself within the cold.

It’s not fair.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact time Otabek fell asleep, but Yuri knew that it was going to be a long while before he could even close his eyes. He stared at the moon glowing in, remembering many other nights like this where he would stare at it the same way.

Only those times, he was cold.

He remembered Veruca, and the one thing she had asked to have for Christmas – the one thing without a price tag – the one thing he didn’t know if he could give her.

Swimming with guilt of all kinds, Yuri finally managed to close his eyes, drowning himself so that he could finally sleep, only to wake up in the morning unable to breathe.

**********************************************************************

**THE NOTE TO DED MOROZ:**

**“I found my best friend. Give Papa one too.”**

**********************************************************************


	5. Lily of the Valley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language   
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: My Five Petaled Lilacs playlist on Spotify!! The link is here: https://open.spotify.com/user/twijill/playlist/6Gq9DQVjdthQ8jpCCIDMKX?si=1xaXlpVcSUG6eZ012ZKrJA  
> I was going to have the ending scene be a lot more drawn out with more conversation and actually a lighter ending, but I decided in order to keep the tension and conciseness of the story I would present things mostly relevant to the main plot! There’s plenty of time for fluff and backstory in chapter seven. Anyways! My ask/submit box on Tumblr (elenastidham) is always open. Go ahead and give it a look! Once again, thank you guys for reading and I hope you enjoy it!  
> -Elena

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**CHILDREN:**

**The unofficial alarm clock.**

**********************************************************************

Yuri was the first to wake up – still exhausted from the night before – groaning as he did and glancing over to notice that Otabek was still sleeping heavily. He pushed himself out of bed, putting on some clothes as he gathered their laundry and put it in the laundry room. He walked back, gently knocking on Veruca’s door before opening it and looking in.

The girls were wide awake by now, bubbly and excited that they had their first sleepover and were able to play a little longer. When Veruca noticed Yuri in the doorframe, she ran up to him, eyes wide. “Papa! Papa! You didn’t tell me it was a sleepover!” She had a smile from ear to ear that was definitely contagious. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he smiled as she hugged him tightly. “Are you two hungry?”

The girls shook their head. “Not yet,” Aisha said.

Yuri nodded, walking into Veruca’s closet and taking her laundry. “Just let me know when you get hungry and I’ll make some breakfast, okay?” They nodded. “And also, keep it down, Mr. Altin is sleeping in the next room.”

With that he took the laundry and went into the laundry room, sorting the clothes by colours and emptying anything that could be in pockets. He did notice, however, one pair of jeans that was neither Yuri’s, nor Veruca’s – it was Otabek’s. He must have picked it up on accident when he was gathering his own clothes off the floor.

He shrugged it off, deciding that he can just wash it anyway and then give it back to him when he wakes up. He reached into his pockets to pull out anything that was in there, taking out a wallet his cell phone, and he set it on the washing machine.

But, when he reached into the other pocket, there was something in there that didn’t recognize. There was a chain and some sort of hollow pendant? He pulled it out, his face curious, and looked at the object. It was a necklace chain with a ring at the end, but with a closer look, Yuri felt his blood run cold.

He recognized that ring.

“Yuri,” a voice suddenly called, worried.

He looked up from his palm, eyes locking with Otabek who, noticing the necklace in his hand, pursed his lips together and took a deep breath.

“You kept it?” Yuri whispered to him, almost heartbroken.

Otabek’s nod was subtle, almost ashamed, avoiding eye contact and hoping that this ordeal would already be over. He looked at his own hands, seeing his current wedding ring and just sliding it off. “It’s a reminder,” he said finally, softly. “If you want to take it back I understand, it was yours, and if—”

Yuri simply walked to him, slamming the pants with all the pocket contents against his chest, before walking upstairs. He needed to distract himself.

The girls ran out of the room shortly after he made his way upstairs so that way they could ask for food. That’s a good distraction. After politely telling them to have a seat at the dining room table, he went into the kitchen and started to make them all some cinnamon toast.

Otabek walked upstairs after a moment, not saying anything but standing at the kitchen doorframe, not sure what he should say at that point. Yuri walked past him, handing the breakfast to the girls before going back and making a couple more slices for himself.

“Do you want some?” Yuri asked quietly, trying to avoid the subject of last night and the last five minutes.

Otabek nodded slightly, and Yuri made him a plate.

They ate in silence, Yuri leaning against the counter with Otabek on the other side of the narrow room. Finally, Otabek opened his mouth. “Look, I—”

“—Just shut up,” Yuri sighed, setting his now empty plate down. “This won’t matter in a few weeks anyway. You said you’d leave me alone after you leave, so just…forget that these past two days ever happened.”

Otabek took a deep breath, nodding once before looking down at his plate, not even wanting to fill the hollowness in his chest with a slice of cinnamon toast.

After they finished eating, Otabek got Aisha ready and the two girls started to cry over their emotional goodbyes, as if they were never going to see each other again. Then again, as far as Yuri knew, they weren’t.

He and Otabek gave each other a quick look before looking away. Those goodbyes were in silence, and they didn’t need to say anything more when the Altins walked out the front door.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153385754@N07/27895689607/in/dateposted-public/)

The ballet studio when it’s empty is filed under Yuri’s list of liminal spaces. He always had about fifteen minutes to himself as he closed up the studio for the night. Veruca loved helping him close everything down – her personal favourite was watching the lights dim until it was dark completely.

After a month of inactivity Veruca had stopped asking about Aisha, hurt that her friend got bored of her, but almost expecting it anyway. Yuri was there for her, making sure to be gentle with his words, despite a million things he wanted to say about the Altins.

Yuri picked her up carefully once they were outside, double checking the doors to see they were locked and then held her close as they started to walk. Thankfully, where he worked wasn’t too far away from home – only about a mile – but that didn’t make the cold any less miserable sometimes.

Tonight was one of those times.

The December air was biting with a particular chill in each breeze, he had to hold Veruca close – and despite her covered in layers and even a blanket around the two of them, the cold was slicing through her lungs.

And he thought November was cold.

“Don’t worry, babydoll,” he whispered gently as he made it to their neighbourhood. “I’ll make some stew for us when we get home.”

She nodded against his chest, cuddling for warmth and closing her eyes. When they made it home, he set her down gently by the fireplace and lit the fire to help warm her up faster. He started to boil some meat within a pot to make it tender enough for the stew.

After that was set, he walked back into the living room to warm himself up some more as well but noticed Veruca curled up in the blanket on a pillow with her eyes closed. He smiled softly, sitting behind her and pulling her into his lap instead. “Do you just wanna go to bed, babydoll?” He asked.

She shook her head with a yawn. “I’m not tired.”

“Sure, pumpkin,” he laughed quietly, but let her be. He reached a hand down and gently started to run his fingers through her hair, remembering how much he used to love it when others would do it to him. By others, it was strictly his grandfather and Otabek.

He remembered cold nights like this with Otabek. He remembered how they huddled by the fire together with something to drink. He remembered how they slept closer to each other when their room was particularly chilly. He remembered it all – and he missed every second of it.

He even missed Otabek now – it had only been a month but Yuri almost completely regretted telling him to forget everything and move on. But then again, at the same time, he was glad he was gone. He knew things would only get bad again if he was there, but he couldn’t help but wonder the maybe. What if it wasn’t?

Yuri kept his touch on Veruca’s hair featherlight, careful not to hurt her because he remembered what it was like to be a child with a fragile scalp.

Suddenly, he heard a knock coming from the front door in the other room. He sighed, taking a deep breath and gently laying her head back down on the pillow, despite her groaning. “I know, I’ll be back in just a second,” he reassured softly as he kissed her temple and stood up, walking to the front door, not expecting who was on the other side.

“Otabek?” He asked, suddenly adjusting himself slightly because he wasn’t prepared for him to return. “What’re you—”

Yuri’s words were cut short when Otabek desperately pressed their lips together for a moment. Yuri froze, completely stunned and unable to comprehend what was happening at the moment before they pulled away just a few seconds later.

“Sorry,” Otabek breathed out, locking eyes with Yuri for just a moment before stepping back. “I didn’t…I couldn’t think of a better way to thank you.”

Yuri stared at him, confused. “What for?”

“For giving me my daughter back,” he said with a slight crack in his voice. It was then when he knew what Otabek meant: custody. He won. “I just…I had to tell you in person. I thought somehow it’d make it all that much more complete.”

Yuri nodded, understanding even though it really didn’t make much sense. Even after ten years, he knew Otabek Altin like the back of his hand, and he hasn’t changed a bit.

The snowfall was gentle now, the breeze bringing a slight redness to tinge at their noses and a dark pinkness at their cheeks. But Yuri ignored it all. No, instead, he was more concerned with the sudden clicking noise that he felt within his head and rumble against his heart.

“That’s…that’s all I wanted to say,” Otabek told him, stepping away from the door now. “Thank you, Yuri, for everything.”

Otabek turned to walk away, making his way to the car and it was within those two seconds Yuri was suddenly faced with two choices: repeat the past, or change the future. He had to take a blind leap, but he knew it was the only way to get out of here – to fix everything.

He didn’t feel his legs running, but he felt his arm lifting, and he definitely felt himself grabbing onto Otabek’s arm and stopping him slightly so he could ask him one thing he just had to say.

“Please,” Yuri spoke softly. “Stay.”

Otabek turned and looked at him, not saying anything, but the smile he gave conveyed more than a thousand words. Gently, he let go of Yuri’s hand, and hopped back into the car and pulling out of the driveway.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153385754@N07/40953578450/in/dateposted-public/)

Yuri was anxious. This was the first time he was leaving Veruca with a babysitter and he was starting to feel some serious attachment issues. Otabek insisted that everything would be fine, but he couldn’t help but wonder how things could go wrong and he wouldn’t be there to do anything about it.

Jesus, he really did need a fucking break.

There was a specific kind of familiarity to Coffeemania at this time of year and this time of day. It took him back to forced visits with his mother. It took him back to the times when he first fell in love.

Falling out of love, it seemed, was a little less painful.

He could almost see a pair of red headphones on the table linked from his ear to the other’s glancing up into each other’s eyes and leaning in as if they were about to kiss. He seemed to even be waiting for Viktor and Yuuri to arrive and interrupt.

But it seemed he had forgotten, continuously, he abandoned Viktor and Yuuri years ago.

Otabek approached the table slowly, pausing at the edge and smiling softly down at Yuri. Yuri glanced up at him and then shrugged. “I’m not getting up,” he said as nicely as he could, prompting Otabek to sit down across from him.

They’re silent for a few moments, shifting within their seats without having a clue of what to do or where to even begin. Just when Yuri thought of a topic and turned his head, he was suddenly interrupted with a young waitress taking their orders, handing them some water to tide them over, and quietly dipping back to the other side of the café.

Yuri chuckled softly. “It’s been ten years and you still order the same bullshit.”

Otabek shrugged with a grin. “It’s a go-to.”

“I see that,” Yuri let out one breath through his nose with a tiny smile.

They waited again, but this time the gap was a little smaller. However, the next sentence was more of a completely bold leap. Otabek’s the one that said it, of course he was, but it felt so completely out of place but also perfectly in line that Yuri had to sleep on the statement for weeks.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Otabek spoke slow and careful. Otabek, thinking? That’s dangerous. He took a deep breath. “About starting over. About trying again…about trying _us_ again.”

Yuri pursed his lips together and stared at a particular spot on the table. He didn’t know what to think.

“Of course, this is completely up to you,” Otabek stammered. “I’ll give you as much time as you need to think on it and please don’t be afraid to tell me no—”

“—Why?” Yuri asked, cutting him off but avoiding eye contact.

Otabek thought how exactly to phrase it for a brief moment before looking back to Yuri. “I feel like when we ended things it was incomplete.”

“I mean, that’s how breakups go,” Yuri mumbled, taking a sip of his water.

“But do you know what I’m trying to get at?” Otabek asked. “It’s like we weren’t supposed to say goodbye.”

He nodded slightly in response, not looking up from his water. He thought for a while, at least long enough for their food to arrive, and that’s when he finally looked up at Otabek and sighed his response.

**********************************************************************

**THE WORDS:**

**“I need time.”**

**********************************************************************


	6. Lavender and Foxglove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language, references to loss and death and just a lotta fluffy angst towards the end  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: My Five Petaled Lilacs playlist on Spotify!! The link is here: https://open.spotify.com/user/twijill/playlist/6Gq9DQVjdthQ8jpCCIDMKX?si=1xaXlpVcSUG6eZ012ZKrJA  
> My playlist is still in development, as I’m still taking out and adding things, but the rough outline is available for listen but don’t expect a finished product until the end of the fic, since that’s about how long it roughly takes! I have a tumblr, elenastidham, and you guys are more than welcome to send me asks or prompts or whatever you’d like! I’ve received fan work this way, and it’s been such an incredible and humbling experience. Once again, thank you guys for reading and supporting my work and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!  
> -Elena

**********************************************************************

**IT’S A START:**

**It never officially began.**

**********************************************************************

Was there such a thing as buyer’s remorse for human beings?

Yuri couldn’t believe that their meet-up last night was even real but he suddenly wanted the option to go back and undo it all so that it would have never happened in the first place. The regret was sinking in at a rapid pace, much like quicksand, where the next move he made would result with suffocation.

But the problem was he was already suffocating.

He’s doubting everything. He’s doubting Otabek’s intentions, he’s doubting if they should continue, he’s doubting if anything will work, he’s doubting it all. There wasn’t a single thought in his mind at that point that hasn’t been second guessed at least twice and then shot to the ground with doubt.

It’s like he never learned how to breathe.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153385754@N07/43049011252/in/dateposted-public/)

It wasn’t Yuri’s first time in New York City, but it was his first time going with a boyfriend. There was something special about sharing an adventure with someone that you loved, and in their case, they were nothing but a bunch of sappy teenagers in love with an unquenchable thirst to explore.

There was a kind of rush that followed something brand new, and it was always heightened when it worked in sets of two. It was like the universe knew, it’s like whatever was out there was aware that there was a pair, and because of it, their senses flew.

They had some time off before their competition, and they most definitely did not waste any time by running around the streets of one of the biggest cities in the world. Yuri picked first – more like a random flip of the coin – and they started their day with running streets down to explore some hole in the wall companies that would charge practically pennies for a little breakfast and a bottle of pop.

A little later that afternoon they found themselves in a bit of a predicament. As luck would have it: they were pickpocketed.

Of course, there was frustration, there was some passive aggressive jabs at who would be to blame, but it planted the seed of a snowballing spiral of disasters yet to come. They managed a resolution, as they’d always do, and continued about their day with some of the most fun adventures they’ve ever had.

But nobody knew what came next, not even the ones in question.

**********************************************************************

**THE TERRIBLE TWOS:**

**The rushes were heightened during the bad, too.**

**********************************************************************

 

Yuri’s hands were sweating. It’s like he had forgotten how to read – a consistent, unequal blurring in his head only made things worse, and he wanted to just plunge into the deepest end of any body of water and never rise back to the surface. Even so, he was beneath the waves anyway; perhaps he was underneath for so long that he was scared to remember what it feels like to breathe.

They had hired the same babysitter as before, and as promised Otabek picked him up at eight, but the ride to dinner was uncomfortably silent. They both had words caught at the tips of their tongues, but neither were brave enough to let those words slip from between their lips.

It seemed that the clouding plague of doubt shadowed over not just one tonight.

Yuri didn’t even feel like he wanted to eat, consistently he felt only one thing on his mind: _are we going to work?_

He went through every possible scenario that ranged from them cutting off the relationship even worse off than before even to the best case scenario that they finish what they started last time and they actually go through with getting married. They were two completely different, yet completely possible extremes, and Yuri was petrified of each one.

Finally, when they spoke, they were sitting down within the restaurant already, Yuri looking just slightly underdressed. Everybody in the building seemed to know why, and took pity – but on Otabek. Yuri shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying not to focus on different patterns of eyes studying him as if they had never seen clothes come from a specific amount of money before.

“Don’t pay attention to them, Yuri,” Otabek tried to comfort. He looked around himself, noticing the snooty faces and noses pointing up while their eyes trailed down. “Pricks,” he mumbled under his breath. “If you’d like, we can just leave and go somewhere else and just be horrifically overdressed,” he laughed slightly. Yuri only grinned a little in response, but it definitely looked forced.

“We’ll see how the waiter is,” Yuri said quietly.

The waiter wasn’t much better.

When he left, Otabek just turned and gave Yuri a sad look, before he just sighed in defeat. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Let’s just go somewhere,” Yuri looked at him. “Like, just drive around or something? I’m honestly not that hungry anyway.”

“Have you eaten today?” Otabek asked. Yuri nodded. “When?”

“About a couple hours ago.”

He nodded and understood the fact that he had just been lied to, but he wasn’t going to push it if he wanted to try and make things work. “Well, if you ever get hungry while we’re out just tell me, okay?” He only got a faint nod in response.

Even though it wasn’t a bike, driving around the city with Otabek in the car felt just as similar as holding onto the open air. It was more about finding some place in the countryside rather than seeing the city, and before they broke beyond the cracking sunset, they finally did settle on something to eat to take with them for the road.

There was a little spot some odd miles back behind Moscow that overlooked the whole city. They kept their lights on when they parked and just sighed, nothing but the view in front of them and a slowly darkening sky overhead.

It had been a long, long time.

“This is nice,” Yuri said finally, quietly. He didn’t break eye contact from the view or even tilt his head, but his voice carried over like their lips were merely inches apart.

“Mhmm,” Otabek hummed in response. He glanced over, wanting to say something about their relationship, but decided not to push it until the right time. Yuri still needed time.

“Are you doing anything this Christmas?” Yuri turned his head and asked, unrelated, but it was very clear that it was going to lead into an invite.

Otabek chuckled, “well, technically, in Kazakhstan, today we’d be celebrating Christmas.”

Yuri remembered. It was always an awkward adjustment to go to Kazakhstan in December and then back to Russia for January, adjusting to two different Christmases with their own different traditions. It was refreshing, but at the same time he couldn’t help but feel out of place on each of those days.

He also remembered what else today meant. It’s not that he had intentionally forgot, it’s just after years of Yuri forcing himself into exile and becoming unreachable, Viktor Nikiforov was now nothing more than a distant memory.

_How were they doing?_ He wondered.

“Well, Russian Christmas,” Yuri laughed breathily. “January 7th.”

Otabek shook his head, smiling softly. “Do you?”

Yuri nodded gently, looking down in his lap for a moment before back to Otabek and locking eyes. “It was just going to be me and Veruca, like every year, but…I was wondering if you wanted to…”

He didn’t finish, his point floating out of his thoughts and into the thin air, but it was easy to pick up and carry. Otabek’s smile grew, and he nodded. “I would love to.”

Yuri smiled very faintly down at his hands in his lap, watching them slowly close into gentle fists. He felt a finger carefully tuck under his chin and guide their eyes to lock once more. Otabek’s finger trailed behind his ear, imagining the hair that used to rest there, instead feeling a velvety buzz.

They’re quiet, before Yuri nods very faintly – and that’s everything Otabek needs to lean in.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153385754@N07/41287699630/in/dateposted-public/)

Yuri cracked his eyes open with a slight groan humming through the back of his throat. At this point in their lives now, the apartment seemed very normal-sized. It’s always subconscious to gauge the size of each room depending on the strength and liveliness of the relationship, with first moving in feeling like a grand open space and the end feeling no different from a prison.

Right now, it wasn’t big. It wasn’t small. It was just very simply, plainly, normal-sized.

Yuri’s eyes trailed to the side and glanced at the clock, smiling at the time and noticing that it was early enough to watch the sunrise. He leaned down, giving Otabek a gentle kiss on his temple to stir him, and when he stirred, he kept his voice as smooth as honey. “Hey,” he whispered softly and kissed him again. “The sun’s coming up. Do you want to watch it with me?”

Otabek smiled, turning onto his back and opening his eyes. Yuri was the first thing he saw that day. He brought his hand up and smoothly brushed his long hair back behind his ear and cupped one side of his face after he did, noticing the way his ring reflects the natural glow of Yuri’s skin.

“I’m already looking at it,” he grinned.

Yuri snorted, blushing. “I have a reputation.”

Otabek laughed, before propping himself up on his elbows and then pulling him close so they could both look out the window in each other’s arms. Yuri rested his head against Otabek’s chest, struggling to keep his eyes open as he felt fingers gently glide through the strands of hair like tangles never existed in the world.

So they watched, as the sun would rise, but Yuri suddenly felt a slight pang in his chest that something was going to go horribly, horribly wrong – and it all would begin on the ice in just a few hours’ time.

That was the gamble of pressure: you either crack, or turn into a diamond.

**********************************************************************

**IN YURI’S CASE:**

**He did both.**

**********************************************************************

 

Yuri woke up the morning of January 7th with a loud chiming echoing in his room. He sat up, looking at his phone with a slight glare from the contrast of light – and from the fact the text was from Otabek. At four o’clock in the morning.

**> >Hey come let us in**

The fuck was he on about?

_I swear to god if he fucking—_

There was a faint knock at the door, and in complete, exhausted frustration, Yuri flung off the bed and to the front. He opened the door, and Otabek quickly brought his finger to his lips, holding a tiny, sleeping Aisha in his arms.

“I wanted to surprise the girls,” he whispered quietly, hurriedly darting into the house and into Veruca’s room. Yuri huffed, closing and locking the door behind him. He walked around the corner to yell in the quietest voice he could muster, but his body clashed against his.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Yuri practically spat, hushed and visibly frustrated. Otabek glanced at their tree and smiled softly. There was only about five or so presents under there as well as a stocking. There was one box set off to the side, and Otabek was sure that one was for Aisha, if anybody. “Are you going to answer me or are you going to put me in a bad mood?”

Otabek looked at Yuri with a childish grin, clearly excited. “Go back to sleep if you want, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He gave Yuri a quick peck on his forehead before smiling wide at him. “Veruca’s going to have the best Christmas ever.”

With that, he walked out the door again to the car, rummaging around in the back and bringing bags of presents to put under the tree. Yuri couldn’t help but feel insulted, that Otabek thought his money and wealth could make Veruca have a better Christmas, but then he remembered that she still thinks Ded Moroz was giving her the presents, so it didn’t sting as harsh.

He didn’t once think that the presence of a family was what really gave Veruca the best Christmas ever.

Yuri didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, but he did remember waking up to loud, excited screaming and a frantic, yet careful shaking. He groaned softly when he opened his eyes, noticing the small blanket normally draped over the couch was now draped over him instead.

Veruca’s eyes were wide, her entire body bouncing as she pointed and pointed to the Christmas tree. “Look and what Ded Moroz gave,” she shouted. “Look at what Ded Moroz left!”

Aisha was practically rolling. “I woke up and I’m with my best friend! And there’s so many presents!” she squealed, showing the dozens of wrapped boxes under the tree to her father, who just smiled warmly.

“Why don’t you go open some?” Yuri told Veruca softly, sitting up and wrapping himself up with the blanket as he watched. He glanced over, making brief eye contact with Otabek before looking back at the girls immediately rip through the paper like a bunch of savages. He felt the couch shift in pressure, and he just scooted closer to rest his head against Otabek’s as the children opened their presents and played with their new toys.

Veruca glanced over, a wide smile on her face and it softened when she saw the boys on the couch. She stared for a moment, and before Yuri could speak that’s when she spoke instead. “Papa, why is Mr. Altin here all the time now?” She set her new dress-up gown down and studied them. “I thought he was just a friend but he’s here for Christmas. Does that mean he’s family now?”

Yuri pursed his lips together, feeling Otabek tense up just slightly. Neither of them meant anything negative or malicious by it, but they didn’t mean anything romantic by it either. Did they?

Before either of them could respond, suddenly Aisha called out from behind the tree. “There’s a present for you here, Papa!”

Yuri sat up, avoiding eye contact even though he could feel those brown eyes giving him a brief look. Otabek stood, walking over to take the present and then sitting back down. Now, Yuri met his glance, and watched as careful hands peeled away the tape and sliding the box out.

He opened the box, then froze, staring for a moment, unreadable. There was a moment where Yuri could basically see the images that flashed through his eyes.

“Where did you get this?” Otabek asked quietly, his voice tight. “I thought…I thought you burned it.”

“I did.” Yuri admitted, ashamed. There was a moment of silence between the two, where they didn’t even notice that the girls had ran off to go play. “I couldn’t bring myself to keep it in there all the way. I know someone…she was able to remake it based on what was left.”

Otabek looked up, unsure how he should react. What should he even _do?_ What should he even _say?_

He leaned in, taking Yuri into his arms tightly. Yuri’s eyes couldn’t help but trail down, staring at the hastily charred remains of a Kazakh flag against leather and suede.

 

* * *

 

There was a particular warmth in the atmosphere of the little house this Christmas night. It might have come from the preheating oven, or it might have come from the tender kisses stolen between the flickering lights.

It felt just like home.

But Yuri couldn’t stop himself from hating home – from being _petrified_ of this home. Even in the little moments where he would giggle, where he’d find himself feeling once again like a child at heart, he’d wish that he wouldn’t. The past felt so, so heavy, but to Otabek, it seemed that he was seamlessly throwing it across his shoulders to move forward.

Yuri didn’t even know if forward was in his vocabulary.

He wanted this. God, he wanted this so bad; and he missed it just as much. And yet despite the fact that everything, and _everything_ was telling him that this was the life he needs, he couldn’t bring himself to want _enough._

As the night dwindled down, Yuri and Otabek once again found themselves the only ones awake in the living room, illuminated only by the firelight nearby. The hot chocolate in their mugs was slowly climbing down to nothing, a rush of warmth flooding their lips every time they chose to take a sip.

“I almost forgot,” Otabek said softly, walking to the tree and reaching towards the very back, to the area that Aisha couldn’t even reach. “I got you something, too.”

He brought the present back and sat across from Yuri once again, handing it to him. With a soft smile, Yuri set his mug on the coffee table and then tore open the paper. The box was smaller than the one he gave, yet elegant, but a part of him was dreading what lied inside.

Regardless, he knew he had to open it.

Inside this box held something very simple: a stuffed tiger.

“It’s cute,” Yuri said, a little confused, but smiling anyway.

“Press his paw,” Otabek instructed.

Yuri hummed, then he did as he was told. There was no sound at first, so he switched to the other side, and that’s when he felt a small device inside. With a simple push, however, he was suddenly aware that this was something, much, much more.

“I’m so proud of you, Yurochka,” it said, in a voice too familiar but too far away. “I will always, always be proud of you. I love you. Goodnight.”

Yuri didn’t even notice his hands shaking. He didn’t notice that there were tears slipping from his eyes already. He pushed it again, listening to this voice and finally taking a breath after a heavy burning in his chest. He looked at Otabek. “How…how did you—”

His voice tightened with a sharp crack, and he looked down at the tiger. He pushed the button again, listening as a soft sob ripped through his throat. Even though there wasn’t a goodbye, this little bear oddly enough brought him some form of closure.

In fact, he didn’t even want to know how he did it anymore.

Yuri pushed the button again, this time curling up with the little tiger, holding him close to his chest and allowing himself to sob. Otabek leaned in and reached his hand over.

“I didn’t think you had enough time to let yourself grieve,” he said quietly, his arms close enough, but not tight. He didn’t need say anything more. His point was clear.

Yuri didn’t think about it, as a matter of fact he refused to let himself think on it because he _knew_ that he didn’t let himself have time to grieve. It fell into a succession that he didn’t have the time to keep up with, but now here he was: and time was slowing down.

Yuri couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t blink, but he could cry.

**********************************************************************

**AND DESPITE IT ALL:**

**Yuri still doubted everything.**

**********************************************************************


	7. Rosemary, Anemone, and Marigold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language, a FUCK TON of angst, fighting, death, injury  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: My Five Petaled Lilacs playlist on Spotify!! The link is here: https://open.spotify.com/user/twijill/playlist/6Gq9DQVjdthQ8jpCCIDMKX?si=1xaXlpVcSUG6eZ012ZKrJA It’s developing guys but I’m getting there!   
> Here it is: the dreaded flashback chapter. The chapter where I go into everything, and I mean everything that happened ten years ago. Strap yourselves in laddies because this is…this is gonna be painful. If you wanna scream to me about it and ask questions pertaining, I have a tumblr, elenastidham, so go ahead and check that out! Once again, thank you guys for reading and I hope you enjoy this!  
> -Elena

**********************************************************************

**SUNSET VS SUNRISE:**

**It’ll all end in tears.**

**********************************************************************

There’s something about Yuri that he tended to forget about himself: he was completely, utterly, and undeniably reckless. It came with his moods, depending on which he settled in, and his constant, unquenchable desire to do better than he ever had before. It was only natural, after all, that one day this would come back to him.

And it would bite him. Right on his ass.

In a way, he knew it was coming from the sunrise that morning. It was a little too dim, and it was something that his grandfather had told him to look out for ever since he was a child. He didn’t know where that superstition came from, but it stuck as something to keep in mind whenever it came.

His mother, even, had carried that with her. Except she took her views a step further and included a general saying from a sailor. “Pink sky at night, sailor’s delight. Pink sky in the morning, sailor take warning.” For some reason, she seemed to let that influence more than just the weather.

And yet, here he was, building his guard, brick by brick, because the sky was a prim shade of cotton candy.

He didn’t remember it when he was on the ice, though. For Yuri, there was something about gliding along his blades that just tore him from his memory. It was as if he lived in a world where nothing ever existed at all.

“Yuri,” Otabek called again, this time Yuri finally turned his head like he could hear for the first time in his life. At first, this was an annoying habit, but once he learned that there was no harm meant by this action and it was more about being too in the zone, Otabek didn’t mind anymore. “It’s lunch time.”

“My bad.”

Yuri felt inspired. It wasn’t a common occurrence where he felt this way, and so he had a bad tendency to milk it for all it’s worth when it happened, even if it ebbed away at all forms of his health. He rushed through his lunch, and he practically jogged onto the ice to keep his creativity in the right mindset.

“Take it easy,” Viktor laughed nervously from the bench. He’s seen this happen more often than others, and he always took it upon himself to make sure that he wouldn’t let it tear him to pieces. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”

“Right,” Yuri pacified, whizzing around in circles a few times before he continued his routine.

And then, there came the dangerous. It was the almighty enemy to the recklessly creative mind: an idea. Now, ideas had a tendency to maintain a positive connotation among creators, but the problem was it did the exact opposite of what it was meant to do. It ripped away everything in it’s path, carving a fortress of its own namesake and tearing down the mind with it.

Today’s victim was twenty-three-year-old Yuri Plisetsky.

The exact cause, to this day, remains unknown, but in the end, it left the boy strangled across the ice, gasping into his knee, and a horrific throbbing in his ankle. He didn’t know who pulled him up, who brought him off the ice, or who gave him a bottle of water. But he did know that it was Otabek who was sitting next to him as he writhed and gripped at his ankle in a shocking pain.

“It hurts,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t even feel himself crying. “It hurts so bad.”

“I know, Yura,” Otabek rubbed his back. “I know.”

“I’m _sorry_.”

**********************************************************************

**ACCIDENTS AND UNKNOWNS END IN BROKEN BONES:**

**Yet words always shatter a fragile heart.**

**********************************************************************

 

It was an international tragedy.

Within hours the entire planet seemed to have known about Yuri’s career-threatening injury, and still nobody knew the cause or the exact time-frame of recovery. One thing was for sure, though: it would be a damn miracle to get back into the season in time to qualify for the Olympics. He knew that it was possible, but he also knew that everybody and their mother would be doing everything they can to hold him back so he wouldn’t kill himself with work. He wasn’t sure how he was going to train in time to blow everybody out of the water at the championships and move on to the Olympics, but he was going to push himself to do so.

One thing was for sure: he couldn’t move without pain.

He had six weeks. Six weeks without being able to skate or do anything other than wait for his ankle to heal. The doctors said it had broken “in an awkward position,” due to his landing from a jump. He couldn’t even remember which jump he was trying to do.

Was it the axel? It sounded like it would be the axel.

Otabek insisted to stay home with him, but Yuri pushed him to continue his training. Just because he was in crutches didn’t mean that he had to use his broken ankle as a crutch in itself. He was going to do everything he could and he was going to compete at the Olympics. Simple as that.

The first few mornings alone, Yuri could ignore. It was easy to convince himself that everything was going to be okay and that these six weeks will go by in a breeze.

But after day five, time started to really, _really_ slow.

It became very easy for Yuri to grow irritated at even the tiniest things, and it became even easier for him to snap at the only person that was ever around. Yet still, Otabek was patient, and he was willing to turn a blind eye to the snippy comments and overall negative demeanour.

But after a while, it became very, _very_ hard to ignore.

If they had to pinpoint their first argument unresolved, it started with a joke. He couldn’t remember what exactly it was, something about the injury to lighten the mood, but he did remember that Yuri didn’t take a liking to it at all.

“You’re an asshole,” Yuri huffed.

Otabek rolled his eyes. One day. He just wanted one day where Yuri wasn’t so negative about everything. “You know what, Yura? It takes one to know one.”

These kind of interactions continued for a couple weeks, until one, simple, catalyst.

**********************************************************************

**REST IN PEACE:**

**Nikolai Plisetsky.**

**********************************************************************

 

He found out through a phone call.

It was in the middle of week five. The arguments were more often, the irritability was more frequent, but the ringing in his ears came completely out of nowhere. His ankle had actually healed a week prior and he was working on physical therapy, but no amount of therapy could ever heal the news he had heard.

It was a stroke, they said. It killed him quickly in the middle of the night. There was no pain, there was no knowledge of retreat, just the closing of eyes, and never waking up again.

Yuri thought back to the last words they had said, the last words they would _ever_ say. They were loving, of course, sweet and heartfelt goodbyes with the promise of talking again tomorrow.

Tomorrow, however, never came.

Things weren’t supposed to end like this. Things were getting _better._ Then again, life did have a tendency to kick, and always find a way to knock somebody back down. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fair._

Yuri didn’t know if he hung up the phone before he dropped it, but he knew that when he picked it up again later on in the evening the call was already over.

It suddenly felt like everything was cold, or that he no longer had a heart in his chest. He wanted to breathe, he wanted to be able to feel _something_ – other than the horrible and spasmodic bursts of pure sorrow. The tears were constant, that was something. Everything else, however? Hollow. Completely empty. If anything it was more as if he was curling in on himself, hoping that this, too, would help him die.

Otabek had come home about ten minutes later, hearing the agonising of weeping from upstairs. Despite everything that had happened these past few weeks, that didn’t stop Otabek from caring or even loving, so it definitely didn’t stop him from rushing up the wooden steps and opening the door.

Yuri needed someone. He needed someone so badly.

“Yuri,” Otabek approached, his touch gentle and his voice careful and soft. “What’s wrong?”

For a brief moment, Yuri forgot he could form words.

“It’s—It’s—” Yuri gasped, a hand gripping at his chest and clenching a fist with his shirt. His nails scratched through the cloth; there was something else he could feel. “G-Grand—”

He coughed, practically choking on himself and his attempt at speaking. He didn’t need to finish, though. Otabek knew what he meant.

“Is he…?” He asked softly. Yuri nodded quickly, suddenly more aware than ever and even more hurt than when he initially was told, if that was even possible at all. “Christ, Yura,” Otabek whispered, pulling him close into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Yuri continued to cry, curled up into a ball as Otabek held him and tried to support him through the best he could. Nothing seemed to work.

“It hurts,” he sobbed. “It hurts so much worse.”

**********************************************************************

**THE ONLY THING AS HEAVY AS A CASKET:**

**Failure.**

**********************************************************************

 

The sixth week came, and Yuri didn’t reach the Olympics. It was shattering, completely heart-wrenching, and the final stroke of black he needed to complete his painting of a burning, burning world.

It was so, so miserable, and everything couldn’t stop falling apart.

Yet, in a way, Yuri almost came to expect the worst at this point. It was clear there was a horrific sorrow in his attempts to skate. Nikolai’s funeral was just a few days earlier and the heavy burden of loss hung so still inside Yuri’s mind.

The loss of his career was just another kick in the chest.

Otabek wasn’t much of help at this point. He was doing everything he could to try and be there, despite Yuri’s recently developed explosive outbursts and reckless thinking. He’d always excuse it. _He just lost his grandfather,_ Otabek would think to himself, listening to his fiancé’s screaming and trying to ignore it. _It’s going to get better._

It didn’t.

It seemed that since losing everything he once had, Yuri had grown bitter and cold to everybody. It was like he had completely forgotten how to love. Otabek tried to give him space, but his sobbing was too heartbreaking to ignore. He tried to talk, but it was hard to have a conversation when you’re only being screamed at. He tried practically everything – from trying to distract him with movies or distract him with sex, from reaching out to try and give Yuri professional help, even going as far as pushing their wedding away until he was in the proper state of mind.

But Yuri was just cold. He was so, so cold.

Looking back, it was Yuri’s biggest regret. If he could go back and change anything, it would have definitely been changing this past that he created. He would have looked for help. He would have found help. He would have tried consistently and reminded Otabek that he still loved him and he would have done everything to try and feel a little bit of warmth again.

The warmth didn’t come until the day a little girl was born.

Yuri’s remarks had grown nastier, his comments now sharpened to the point of daggers in order to hurt, aiming to carve in a wound that would be damn near impossible to heal.

They had seen their relationship failing on two different days. For Yuri, the end came during the last fight they would ever have. For Otabek, the end came the moment Yuri told him three words.

“I love you,” Otabek had kissed his temple softly, his voice soft, trying to keep the atmosphere light. They were going to sleep now, shrouded in a darkness and a topsy-turvy weight in the air.

Yuri didn’t even turn his head.

Otabek sighed, laying down and turning his back to him, his eyebrows furring together as he tried to piece everything together on what could even work to fix him. There had to be something, right?

“I don’t care.”

The words pierced through the air so swiftly and shot Otabek directly through his chest. For a moment, he didn’t even believe that Yuri had even said them. He wanted to think he may have asked something else and he finally received a response, but he didn’t ask Yuri for anything. Anything at all.

It was in the middle of January when Otabek Altin realised that he and Yuri were slowly but surely falling out of love.

**********************************************************************

**SEARCHING FOR A WISH:**

**But there were no lilacs.**

**********************************************************************

 

The final day was in the dead centre of February. Their relationship was already rapidly flowing downhill. Their lives were forcing them to go into different directions – they kept butting heads over the smallest things, their remarks aimed to hurt, and everything overall was just starting to get explosive. It was like sitting on a powder keg, but not one that would set off dynamite. No, this was the kind that would set off a nuclear bomb, and they were only pushing it closer and closer to the flames.

It was only natural that one of these days, it’d explode.

Their little apartment they had rented together at the beginning of the year suddenly started to feel really, really small.

Otabek hung his keys in a little cabinet for them hanging on the wall, sighing softly as he did. Practice started to feel a little more relieving every time he’d leave, the air being physically lighter the moment he stepped out of the apartment. He closed the door, almost slamming it even though he didn’t intend to. He was exhausted, and he only had a couple hours until he had to leave again for a DJ gig he was scheduled for that evening. He needed to start getting ready.

Yuri was in the kitchen, trying to distract himself by cooking – something that would ignite all of his senses. He was in the process of desperately looking for a way to get back into skating. He hoped that maybe once he did, things would settle down, that things would get better. In a way, they did, but in a way, they didn’t.

It’s funny how life worked like that.

He sighed, having told Otabek dozens of times not to slam the door and it was really irritating that he still did it anyway. “Welcome home, dear,” he said, unenthused.

Otabek wiped his face and rolled his eyes, noticing the tone but ignoring him. It wasn’t like he intentionally slammed the door, it was more like a habit by now – after long days and countless hours away he was just in a rush to be inside. Then again, he didn’t know why he’d want to rush to come to _this._ He didn’t want to argue about it, because it wasn’t that deep. Instead, he made his way into the kitchen to grab an apple to put in his stomach before he locked himself in their room.

Yuri groaned and tossed the knife onto the cutting board and stomped to the hallway, yelling. “I was making dinner for you, asshole!” He hissed, then just decided to fuck it and continued making it only for himself now. Otabek can fucking starve for all he cared.

Otabek huffed and peaked his head out the door. “I have to leave in a little over an hour. I wouldn’t have time anyways,” he said before slamming the door, on purpose this time. He took a bite of the apple and set it on his nightstand before putting his head in his hands and sighing softly. He was half tempted to just leave for work early, wanting to be anywhere but here. He never understood why he wanted to be with Yuri so bad during the day but when he’d come back he wanted to leave.

Perhaps a part of him still loved him, but then again, perhaps he loved the _idea_ of him.

Yuri felt his blood boil because he _knew_ that fucker slammed the door on purpose now. So, when he finished what he was currently working on for dinner he walked to the bedroom and then opened the door. “So, are you going to tell me where the fuck this attitude is coming from or did you just feel like waking up with a stick up your ass today?” Yuri asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe as he looked at his fiancé with an eyebrow raised.

Otabek looked back to him before just glaring and standing up, pulling out a couple things so he could get ready for work. Yeah, he definitely didn’t want to be here. “I don’t know, maybe it’s my two jobs, constant stress, and my life being nothing like I wanted it to be just because I wanted to make you happy.” He got dressed, looking at himself for a moment before deciding that it’ll make do and he went to leave. However, Yuri was still in the doorframe, once again, in his way. “I was trying not to yell at you because I know I’m in a bad mood but here you are being an ass and making it worse.”

“Oh, here we go again,” Yuri groaned under his breath before looking back to him and then narrowing his eyes. “We’re perfectly fine without you working two jobs. Whose idea was that again? Oh yeah, _yours_. There’s no reason for there to be a collective total of three incomes in this house. Maybe if you just listened to me for once and quit being a DJ you’d be able to sleep more and then not be such a pain in my ass.”

“Do you not realise exactly how expensive and high maintenance you are?” Otabek rolled his eyes and tried to walk through the doorway, but Yuri stepped in front and shoved him back. “I’m going to be late, Yuri. Move.”

“Don’t fucking try to pin this shit on me,” Yuri growled and didn’t move because he wasn’t going to lose this argument. “It’s not like you’re cheap to keep up with either. So don’t throw finances around if you can hardly understand where it’s going yourself.” He puffed his chest out, trying to make himself feel bigger; he was angry now, he wasn’t going to lose this fight.

“Well, considering you don’t have any sponsors, you’re not bringing home a lot of money yourself. Maybe you should retire already and move on to a different job, because Lord knows that skating is doing _so much_ for you,” Otabek glared.

Yuri took the sharp insult on his skating before his hand moved without thinking. It was purely a reaction, but after feeling the stinging across his fingers and Otabek’s head suddenly rocked to the side, he realised what he had just done. He gasped softly, shocked at his own instinct, his body trembling now. He wanted to apologise, he wanted to run into his arms and kiss him across his face, hoping that it would make everything better; but the moment he caught sight of Otabek’s eyes, he hardened again.

No apology was ever said.

Otabek brought hand to his face where he was slapped and just gave him a deadly look. He saw a glisten of fear in Yuri’s eyes then, and he also saw how he tried to mask in with the cold again. He felt his chest tighten with anger and knew he really needed to calm down and hold himself back. “I have to go,” he chuckled madly, standing up straight again. He pushed past Yuri before walking back into the living room and kicking the coffee table to let out some of his anger.

“Or, maybe you quit breaking shit when you’re throwing a temper tantrum like a child and we wouldn’t have to spend money to replace it. What a novel fucking concept,” Yuri shouted, angered again. He stomped after him and grabbed him by the shirt to yank him back to look at him in the eyes. His patience was seriously being tested here and he knew it would get really ugly if they didn’t calm down, despite the irony that their relationship wasn’t beautiful in the first place.

Otabek grabbed Yuri by his wrists and shoved him off of his shirt. “I could do that,” he grimaced. “But that means I’d hit you, and, I don’t hit the person I love no matter how mad I am. I will break everything in this apartment before I would ever lay a finger on you, because I’m not like that. I’m not that kind of person Yuri, but, it seems that _you_ are.” He grabbed his keys before shrugging and walking to the front door.

“Oh sure, because you love me now all of a sudden,” Yuri laughed coldly. He followed him to the door and pushed the door shut, slamming it, even. “Quit acting so fucking high and mighty like you’re better than everybody else. I hate it when you do that and you _always_ do that!”

Otabek shot a glare at him and leaned his back against the door after Yuri shut it and shook his head. He hummed, making it sound like he was thinking out loud. “Right, well, if I’m too much for you then just say it, Yuri. Tell me that you don’t want me anymore. Tell me you’re done with me, because I know you already are.” He felt his heart shatter at the words that fell from his mouth. They hurt and he really didn’t want to hear the answer. It was made clear then: they fight a lot, but his love for Yuri was still strong.

Even more than the idea.

“Quit trying to flip shit around, like _you’re_ the victim,” Yuri screamed. He was certain that Otabek couldn’t stand him at this point and nothing hurt him more than this fact alone. “If you want me to say it, then fine, I’ll tell you what you want to hear. But why don’t you tell me how you truly feel then, hmm? If you want me to hate you so badly why don’t you tell me the truth? Why don’t you tell me that you’re tired of me and you want someone that makes you happy? Because by the way you’re acting, I can’t seem to anymore.”

_Please, please don’t say it._

Otabek just looked away from him before shaking his head roughly. “Keep yelling like it’ll get you anywhere.” He felt his jaw clench and twist the words out of his mouth before he even knew it was happening. He didn’t mean a single word—

“I’m tired of you. You don’t make me happy anymore, but clearly, I don’t make you happy either.”

The room shook with silence, and suddenly Yuri was faced with the very clear reality that they were done a long time ago. What was left of his heart sank, plummeting beneath the ground and burying itself there.

“So…what?” Otabek finally asked, breaking the silence and locking eyes with him. “Are we not going to fight for this? Are we done?”

Yuri didn’t expect anything to come out of Otabek’s mouth like that but it still happened anyway. He felt like he just been stabbed in the chest, the knife twisting in every direction before finally pouring salt in the wound. Yuri didn’t say anything Otabek wanted him to say, but yet there was Otabek, repeating the words letter by letter.

He really wanted this, didn’t he?

Yuri had to act fast, opening the door and pointing to it. He knew if they waited any longer he was going to start crying and the last thing he wanted was to give Otabek that kind of satisfaction. He took a shaky breath, gesturing to leave. “Go on then,” he said quietly, his voice trembling with his body and very plainly hurt. Pain was written all over him. “Go be happy somewhere else, and don’t come back.”

Otabek looked at him and just closed his eyes tightly, biting his lip. He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes again, nodding simply. “You’ll never have to see me again.” He paused at the doorframe, debating for a moment about this next sentence, but he figured that he might as well say it. It didn’t matter anymore. He had already made his stance clear so he went on ahead and said the unforgiveable. “You know, Yuri, you’ve really turned into your mother.”

With that, he left. He turned around, closed the door behind him, instead of walking back inside. Yuri could faintly hear the motorcycle starting, the normally deafening sound of the engine softening as it drove away, leaving him alone in pure silence.

There he was: the pathetic, empty shell of who he used to be. There was a moment where nothing happened at all, as if his mind was trying to process and deny the events that occurred merely seconds before.

And then there was reality.

Yuri turned, pressing his back against the door and sliding down until he felt himself planted to the concrete tiles on the floor. His breathing started heavy, then turned shallow, and just as he started to feel the tears slipping from his eyes, he broke.

The denial in his motives were only relatively quick, when the next few seconds consisted of pacing – between a moment of himself in silence and the consistent noise every hour before. How long had he been sitting on this? How long was it going to take before Otabek finally threw those words in his face in order to carve in disdain?

_Was he lying to me?_

_Did he mean it?_

It was two thoughts Yuri couldn’t shake off. He tried to think back to every moment that could have led to the syllables that slipped past Otabek’s lips but all he could think about was _her._ It was her and her damn adversary. It was her constant negative after negative of unrelenting force that just drove him to spirals. It was the very thing he avoided – the very thing he was afraid of – but it was also the very thing he turned into.

He didn’t know what came first in his reaction, but the next thing he saw was his world around him breaking. Yuri screamed until his throat burned dry, his hands shaking while his heart once again yearned to be kissed. Everything that once was, is, or ever could be connected to Otabek suddenly seemed to connect him to his mother, and the first instinct in his chest hammered against his skin and demanded him to _destroy._

Pictures were the first to go – his fingers slicing themselves open frame after frame as he’d throw them along the doorframe – a frenzy of glass shattering against the wall the room gradually became littered with moments of obsolete against a reminder of their failed engagement. Nothing was going to survive. He was going to make sure of it. He was going to make sure that not a single piece, not a single memory, was going to see the light of day tomorrow.

There was one photo in particular – one that carried such a weight from way back in Spain – and he wanted to destroy that one personally. He flipped the frame, the little pieces at the end not wanting to cooperate before he decided to slam it against the fireplace and reach inside between the glass, ripping it from its place. He didn’t feel himself starting to bleed. What few pictures did survive never made it outside.

Yuri hoped each piece of glass that he crushed between his feet was a direct bloodline into Otabek’s heart, he hoped that he could feel every cut and tear that smashed against the wooden doorframe and stretched across the carpet. He wanted him to _hurt._ He wanted him to share this pain.

Yuri ripped off any ties to Otabek Altin’s name, screeching in search for the remnants that he could tear apart and burn the pieces.

The fire came next, hungry and starting to devour everything that was tossed inside – and among the wreckage Yuri found himself throwing Otabek’s jacket into the flames, watching as the flickering embers started to demolish what it could obtain.

The image hit him suddenly harder than it should.

“No–no, no, no,” Yuri quickly panicked, fumbling down to his knees and reaching into the fire to grab the sleeve. The flame kissed his hand, and he winced to pull back, seeing a slight singe in his hand, before he suddenly reached in again and pulled out the jacket and instantly patted away at the ashes that came.

There was a moment of disbelief, then the moment where everything came down, where he was presented with the wreckage in front of him, where he saw everything that he had done.

Yuri sobbed, pressing his forehead to his knees and coughing between breaths. Unable to break the hollowness in his chest, he hated himself for everything that just happened and he most definitely took the blame. He didn’t make Otabek happy anymore? He felt miserable. When he didn’t come back home later that night it hurt even worse – it was real.

Yuri didn’t know when he was going to get up. All he could think about was everything that had happened, and he saw Natasha in everything that he had done. He _really_ turned into his mother.

He didn’t know what hurt worse: this fact alone or the consequences at the end of the day.

There were only a few times in life where Yuri wanted to die. The first came when he was five years old, ripped away from an household that he didn’t know was abusive. The second happened when he fell in love – there was something about that kind of pain that he couldn’t explain, but when it was all said and done he was happy, and he felt silly for even thinking such a thing.

The third was right now, after he had just lost _everything._

He peeled himself off the ground, shaking and heaving in every way as he forced himself to a stand. The silenced echoed his own breathing between the walls of each shrinking room, and in the brief moments he wouldn’t see his mother or his grandfather, he saw Otabek. He saw remnants of a life he used to love, he saw everything that kept him happy before it all fell apart.

And now, here he was, at the beginning of the worst part of his entire life.

**********************************************************************

**HE LOOKED AROUND:**

**Grey. Everything was grey.**

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	8. Purple Hyacinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language, angst, fighting  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: My Five Petaled Lilacs playlist on Spotify!! The link is here: https://open.spotify.com/user/twijill/playlist/6Gq9DQVjdthQ8jpCCIDMKX?si=1xaXlpVcSUG6eZ012ZKrJA It’s developing guys but I’m getting there! But one thing to note I listened to on repeat for this chapter (especially the last scene) was the song “Castle Byers” in the playlist!  
> This chapter is going to go into almost everything else you didn’t see in chapter 7 (because I wanted to end it on the most depressing note ever let’s be real), such as a lot of questions raised in earlier chapters. This one won’t be as depressing though, despite what the warnings say. Plus, the last few things that aren’t addressed in this chapter will be brought up in chapter 9! Anyways! I’ve got a tumblr, elenastidham, and so if you’d like you can do whatever with that information. Thank you once again so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!  
> -Elena

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**THE FIRST COLOURS OF THE MORNING:**

**Golden yellows and faded purples.**

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Something didn’t feel right when Yuri woke up that morning. Veruca came and woke him up, and he didn’t even remember sleeping.

“Hey, babydoll,” Yuri groaned slightly as he sat up, taking a deep breath and smiling tiredly at her. “Did you need anything?”

Veruca shrugged. “Can I have some cereal?”

Yuri’s smile turned warm, pushing himself off the bed and took her hand. He walked her into the little dining room as he made his way into the kitchen, noticing Otabek sleeping on the couch. “Is Aisha hungry?” he asked, quietly.

She shook her head. “She’s still sleeping.”

As he poured cereal into a kid’s bowl, he glanced at the clock on the stove, noticing that Veruca was up a little earlier than usual. “Did you sleep good?” he asked as he poured the milk, a little concerned. “Did you have a nice dream?”

She smiled and nodded, starting to eat when Yuri set the bowl in front of her. “I had a dream that Aisha was a princess and I was a knight and we would have tea parties then slay dragons on a magic car.”

Yuri chuckled, leaning in and tickling his finger on her cheek, simple brushes that provided comfort and care. “You have such a vivid imagination, sweetheart,” he said. “Never let that die.”

“She gets it from you.”

The Plisetskys turn their heads, looking at a barely-awake Otabek Altin lean against the empty doorframe.

“You scared me,” Veruca giggled.

“Sorry,” Otabek chuckled softly before pushing himself off the wall and looking at Yuri. “May I get something?”

“Go for it,” Yuri said, stepping to the side and allowing Otabek through.

There’s a pause; Veruca looked between the two boys as she ate her cereal for a moment before she finally pushed her finished bowl in front of her. “Papa, how did you and Mr. Altin meet?”

Yuri looked at her, intrigued but also gentle. “Why?”

She shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Well,” Otabek mused, leaning over the breakfast bar and looking at the child. “When I was a kid, I went to a ballet class, and I saw your Papa there, dancing better than all the other kids. He had the most incredible eyes I had ever seen.”

Yuri felt himself blush slightly, avoiding meeting Otabek’s tender and loving gaze, a soft smile tugging his lips halfway upwards. He let out a breathy chuckle through his nose and shook his head. “I don’t remember it, but I remember meeting him again in Spain.”

Veruca’s eyes widened and her ears perked up as her back shot straight. “You’ve been to Spain?” She asked, amazed.

Yuri’s smile widened and he nodded. “I’ve been all around the world, babydoll.”

“Wow,” she gasped in awe. “Can I go around the world, too?”

His smile suddenly saddened. “Maybe when you’re older.”

She giggled, bouncing in her seat. She looked between the two again and realised that the stories could, in a way, conflict. “Wait, how did you two meet when you’re travelling around so much?”

“I used to be a figure skater,” Otabek answered, a smile lost in the memories of what came before. Her eyes widened again.

“Papa, he really knows how to skate!” Veruca gasped again. She looked to Yuri, her eyes almost puppy-like. “Can we please go skating? He can teach you. He can really teach you.”

Yuri just gave her a look, and she sighed. She pushed herself out of the chair as she bounced out of the dining room and down the hallway to her room to see if her best friend was already awake. Yuri sighed, thinking about how on Earth he was going to give her the life she wanted – the life she needed – the life she deserved.

“Why do you keep lying to her like that?” Otabek asked softly, almost betrayed. “You love skating.”

“Used to love,” Yuri corrected, taking a deep breath. “As long as she’s with me, she won’t ever skate. I refuse for her to even look that way. Besides, what I do and don’t do with Veruca is none of your business. I guess my eyes changed.”

“Your eyes of a soldier had nothing to do with your skating, Yuri,” Otabek mumbled. “They just showed _you._ They were your soul, and that was the soul I fell in love with all those years ago.” He looked down at his hands, folded into each other. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he quickly refrained from letting it stay. “None of that has changed.”

Finally, Yuri remembered. With his face pressed against his hand and a finger resting on his temple, he turned, facing Otabek and blurting out his next words. “So, what’s the catch? What do you want from me?”

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I mean, there’s gotta be something, right?” Yuri chuckled without any humour, a lot more breathy and uncomfortable rather than emitting any positive emotion. “I just don’t understand you. I can fathom how in your right mind that you managed to feel something for me after everything that happened, after everything that I’ve done, after we can clearly see the first round didn’t work for us.”

“So you think I have some kind of ulterior motive to this?” Otabek was definitely betrayed now, his chest hurt and his bottom lip turned upwards in a frown.

“It’s the only thing I can think of.”

“Yuri, for Christ’s sake,” Otabek sighed, bringing his hands up and rubbing his face in frustration. “Do you really think of me as that heartless? Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I never stopped caring?”

“Well—no—I just—” Yuri took a deep breath and groaned. “I mean, I don’t understand. I’ve done so much and you said these _things—”_

“—We were in a rough time. That doesn’t mean that I—that we—”

“—I mean, especially after the incident with Erkin I _really_ thought you’d hate me.”

Otabek made a face, confused, trying to decipher what the hell Yuri just talked about. There was a pause, where he sat there, thinking, unable to figure out what he meant and he turned and locked eyes. “What incident with Erkin?”

_Oh, fuck._

Yuri’s eyes widened slightly in shock, dreading his theory that he knew was about to be proved. “He didn’t…he didn’t tell you?” He swallowed hard. “He didn’t say anything?”

Otabek slowly shook his head.

Yuri took a shaky breath now, realising now what he must do. This was the last thing he wanted to admit and definitely not during a fragile, fragile time between the two. Even still, he was used to gritting his teeth and ripping off the band-aid before there could be anymore pain.

“What did you do to my brother?” Otabek spoke deadly low, almost threatening.

“I didn’t do anything in the sense you’re thinking about,” Yuri’s voice tightened, his body practically curling in on itself. “After we broke up…I—we—” he took a deep breath, then pushed the words past his lips before they could sit in and burn any longer. “I slept with him.”

It took a minute before the news rips through Otabek’s throat, suddenly leaving him without a word to speak. His lips were parted, there were attempts, but all that could really escape was slight wheezes and inaudible gasps, breaths that couldn’t even make it past the threshold of fresh air.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri said, his words so quiet you’d have to lean in to be able to listen to him. “I thought he would tell you…I’m so sorry.”

Otabek can only push out the word “Why?”

Yuri pursed his lips together, avoiding eye contact and swallowing nothing in a dry mouth. He remembered then that Otabek was jealous; he remembered there were deep insecurities. “I did it to hurt you,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

Otabek took a deep breath, trying to process everything that was just said and this sudden flood of emotion that wrecked through him. He stood up, not looking at him or saying anything, before suddenly making a b-line directly to Veruca’s room.

Yuri felt a sob heave in his chest, bringing his hand to his mouth and staring at the table, ashamed of what he made. He heard the door open and slam shut, and that’s when he stood up, walking in the hallway to meet Veruca halfway—

But she wasn’t there.

Her door was wide open, and that little girl wasn’t in sight. He heard the car starting outside, and the sudden panic that flashed through his eyes and a scream that passed his lips were the very things that drove him to run. He opened the door, seeing her in the backseat with her best friend, confused and afraid of everything happening around her.

She called for her Papa, and that’s when he started yelling, running towards a car that was pulling away. “Otabek where are you taking her? Give her back to me! Otabek _leave her out of this!”_

As he ran towards the car, it suddenly fired away, shooting down the road at a speed he definitely couldn’t reach. He had felt afraid for Veruca before, many times, but this one was a fear that struck deep. He knew Otabek would never hurt her, he knew that he would never kidnap her for good, but the endless amount of things that he might do in the meantime had him swimming in panic.

He ran back inside, his mind immediately wanting to dial the police, but he knew that if he did things would end up _really_ bad for the girls, and he knew that they were just kids. He knew Otabek wasn’t a monster, but he knew Otabek also knew how to make him hurt.

He rang Otabek. The first time, he didn’t answer, and he had to resort to screaming in the voicemail, calling him an asshole and demanding that he bring her back. The second time went to voicemail yet again, and with similar profanities but a little more of a painful bite in his tone, Yuri called again. By the seventh voicemail, he was sobbing – a complete mess on the other line as he just wailed and begged for Veruca to come home. After the twenty-fifth, he was hysterical, his mind suddenly considering the possibility that he had just lost his little girl forever.

He gave up a few calls later, leaving himself in the middle of the living room floor – alone, ashamed, and at the same time completely betrayed.

They were only gone for about a half an hour, but it felt like another ten years. Yuri was just trembling with uneven breathing by the time the car calmly rode back into the driveway. He scrambled to his feet, the knock at the door gentle instead of pounding. He rushed to unlock the handle and open it, not seeing anybody until his eyes glanced down and saw Veruca, happy and wide eyed and staring up at him.

Yuri dropped to his knees, pulling her close into his arms and holding her tightly, trying to hold back from crying into her shoulder. She seemed confused, and based on the same demeanour Aisha had while sitting in the car, it was clear these girls still didn’t know anything. He pulled away for just a moment, noticing how the Altins never exited the vehicle or even pulled out of the driveway – not yet.

“Is everything okay baby?” He asked, his voice almost frantic. “Did he treat you okay? Are you hurt?”

Veruca cocked her head, confused. “No, I had a lot of fun!”

“Really?” Yuri’s voice was a little calmer now, but now matching her confusion. There was a catch here. Where was it? “What did you do?”

She smiled wide. “Mr. Altin took me skating!”

Yuri’s blood ran cold. The very thing he tried so desperately hard to avoid suddenly came crashing down into a blade that stabbed him through his fingertips. His phone vibrated, and with a shaky breath he glanced down to read it – from Otabek.

**_I did it to hurt you._ **

Yuri looked up, making eye contact with Otabek for a brief moment, then watched as he pulled out of the driveway and sped away.

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**DESPITE THE HARSHNESS IN HIS EYES:**

**Otabek Altin was crying, too.**

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It had been seven days.

Veruca, of course, was unphased at the events that took place a week prior and was her normal self. If anything, she was rather pleased – she finally got to go skating, what more could she ask for now?

Yuri, on the other hand? Devastated. It had been a week since the last time he spoke to Otabek, and his heart still raced every time Veruca was a little too quiet. He knew that he deserved some kind of payback, but he didn’t realise Otabek would go straight for the jugular. He had a hard time sleeping every night, waiting for something to go wrong at any given moment when he heard a creak in the hallway.

This night, however, was a little different.

Yuri woke up at about two in the morning to the sound of his phone ringing. Groggy, he leaned over and picked it up, not checking the Caller ID before he answered with an exhausted hello.

“Hey—y,” Otabek whined on the other end, dragging out his sounds in a slur of mumbles. Yuri almost hung up. “Yura—a, are you awake?”

He’s fucking drunk.

“What the hell do you want?” Yuri asked, his low voice suddenly cold and calculating, looking for anything he could use against Otabek to strike without a string of mercy.

“You,” Otabek made a noise that sounded almost like a mixture between a moan and a cry for help. He hummed softly at the thought. “I need you.”

“You need to sober up and go to bed, and you need to never call this number again.” Yuri sat up, reaching over to turn on the light. He had a feeling this would take a while. “Delete it, erase it, and pretend I don’t exist.”

“Christ, Yura, you have such a stick up your ass. If it were a dick instead you’d probably be a little more loose.” He sighed, noticing how Yuri chose not to comment on it. “I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to you,” Otabek groaned. “It’s just _skating.”_

“Yeah, and what happened with your brother was just sex.”

Otabek paused, a sharp inhale was audible from the other end. “It’s a lot more than that.”

“Exactly,” Yuri confirmed.

“Okay, look, you and I both know where you were aiming when you…did that,” Otabek chose his words carefully, not even wanting to say the words out loud. “But can you at least fill me in as to why Veruca skating is such a big deal? Make me understand, then maybe I’ll apologise.”

“You can start by apologising for fucking _kidnapping_ her,” Yuri hissed. He glared, even though he wasn’t looking at anybody. “And I don’t have to explain myself.”

Otabek’s groan was audible, a frustrated mix between sexual tension and disappointment. He was trying to act sober, but it was a bit of a pain if you’re already gone. “Damn it, Yuri! It’s—fuck—I just don’t find it fair on her. I get it, not my place, but you’re making this so hard to understand! I wish you’d just fucking _talk_ to me!”

Yuri felt his blood simmer, not yet close to a boil, yet it maintained a heat that caused his eyes to spark. His voice was snapping, and he was losing his patience. “You don’t have to understand shit. I don’t try to impede on how you raise your daughter, now do I?”

“I know that!” Otabek didn’t sound furious, but he did sound aggravated, the exact kind was unclear. “But being selfish with her just because you don’t want to do something anymore doesn’t mean that she—”

“—for _fuck’s sake,_ it’s not because I’m being selfish!” Yuri shouted, rising to a stand from his bed and gripping his phone tightly. “It’s because of _you!”_

Otabek went silent, the words echoing in his head like he didn’t just hear them thrown out of his mouth. He took a deep breath, unsure about what to say in the situation, and he could almost feel Yuri’s sigh on the other end. What kind of sigh was this? Was it relief? Frustration? Agony? A mixture of the three, most probably.

“It was you,” Yuri repeated, softer. He took a few deep breaths and his anger quickly diminished into just pain – and it was audible. “When I first had my injury, you and I both knew I was falling behind. I was doing everything in my damn power to save my career even though we both knew it was failing. I was skating for _you,_ you asshole, and even that was falling apart.”

His voice cracked, but he continued speaking. “And…and when you left me you told me that I just needed to retire because I…” He swallowed hard, trying not to cry on the other end. He was glad these tears were silent, but Otabek had a feeling on what was happening behind the line. Suddenly, everything with Veruca made sense – it was complete, irrational, paranoia.

Paranoia that _he_ made.

“She’s too much like me. I couldn’t stand to see her get hurt,” Yuri couldn’t finish, but his whole point now was clear, and his tears doubled down into sobs.

There often came a moment in Otabek’s life where he didn’t know what to do – normally he’d play it by ear and make a rational decision based on what evidence he found since then – but this was a case where there wasn’t even a hint of what he should say. The words were just _gone._

“Fuck, Yuri—I-I—” He wanted to apologise, he wanted to make up for the constant stress and paranoia he didn’t even know he induced, and he realised just how much they both need help. They both need to _talk._ All of this, so much of this could have been avoided had they actually sat down and talked to each other. “I really fucked up. I’m so s—”

“—just forget my number and get out of here,” were the last words that Yuri said before he promptly hung up the phone, leaving them both in their respective silence, barely any light and only a fraction of time to their name.

Otabek looked down at his cell phone, his breathing fumbling and his fingers shaky, and he pulled up Yuri’s contact information to do what he asked – but, he stopped. There was something about the way Yuri’s smile lit up his heart behind the screen, a simple reminder that there was love, that there was life, that there was a reason to _fight._

He brought his fingers to the photo, gently touching the screen, remembering all those times he’s repeated this action so many years before. He remembered how he’d carefully stroke his fingers along the pixels of his skin as if he was brushing his hair behind his ear, dreaming about the day he would do it in person.

_This_ was what he remembered. This was who he loved.

His fingertips softly rested on Yuri’s face for a moment, before taking one last deep breath – one last deep look – and closing down the app altogether.

**********************************************************************

**SOMETHING OTABEK LEARNED THAT NIGHT:**

**He was going to fight for Yuri Plisetsky.**

**********************************************************************


	9. Daffodil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language, angst, cigarettes (if that’s worthy of a warning? Idk)  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: My Five Petaled Lilacs playlist on Spotify!! The link is here: https://open.spotify.com/user/twijill/playlist/6Gq9DQVjdthQ8jpCCIDMKX?si=1xaXlpVcSUG6eZ012ZKrJA   
> This is the wrap up chapter! Everything else that wasn’t answered before will be answered now! Prepare yourselves as it is equal parts angsty and sappy. Kinda rushed, though, I apologise. My brain is equal parts trying to finish this and wanting to take it’s time so idk what to do about it. Also! If you didn’t know already I made another tumblr, minuetofthewild, specifically catered to Zelda fanfics because I definitely do plan on making more of those. But if you’re not into that, then you can just find me at my personal tumblr, elenastidham. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!  
> -Elena

**********************************************************************

**THE SMELL OF SMOKE:**

**The taste of grey.**

**********************************************************************

There’s a few things Yuri promised himself that he wouldn’t repeat: the past, steps on ice, and an old smoking habit he picked up after he was twenty-three.

The only promise left to break, it seemed, was getting back on the ice.

It was the first packet of cigarettes he had bought in over eight years. His hands were tangled up on themselves trying to remember how to light the match – he had forgotten to buy a lighter. He picked a cigarette, setting it outside the box on the railing on the front porch, scratching the match against the box for a few tries.

Until finally, there was a flame.

He stared at it for a moment, watching the fire dwindle down to his fingers where he quickly forgot what it felt like to burn. He winced with a hiss, shaking the lighter and tossing it into the neighbour’s snow. He pulled out a second match, pausing, waiting for some kind of sign to tell him to stop. When nothing came, he sighed, turning his attention to the box, ready to strike again, until he heard the door open.

“Papa, what are you doing?”

Scrambling, Yuri quickly hid the box of cigarettes and the matches behind his back, smiling at the little girl. “Nothing, babydoll. Just daydreaming.”

Veruca hummed, climbing onto the porch swing with Yuri and looking up at him, kicking her feet as they dangled. She didn’t look at him for a brief period of time, thinking of what exactly she should say, before she finally said it. “Did I cause the fight between you and Mr. Altin?”

Yuri made a face – some kind of mixture between surprise and shock – and it took his words for a second. He stammered, not expecting that kind of question out of her, or even that kind of thought process, before he finally managed to earn back his voice when he shook his head. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

Veruca shrugged, a little embarrassed and ashamed. She still thought that way.

“No, no, baby come here,” Yuri spoke gently, pulling her close onto his lap so he could hug her tight. “Don’t ever blame yourself for something like that. It’s grown-up stuff, and one day when you get older I can tell you if you’d like. But for right now, just don’t worry, okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

She nodded, not saying anything as her eyes trailed around and noticing the pack of cigarettes now that her head saw what was behind the other’s back. “Are those cigarettes?” she asked.

Yuri sighed, knowing he’d been caught, and pulled away to nod at her. “Yeah, they are.”

“You _smoke?”_

He shook his head. “I quit when you were born. I was going to start again.”

“Well, _don’t,”_ she emphasised. Yuri couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, it’s really stupid of me, huh?” He laughed lightly, a finger gently petting her cheek for a split second. He gestured to the trash bin sitting at the corner of the yard. “How about you throw them away for me?”

Veruca smiled, hopping off the swing and taking the boxes and walking off the front porch. “I will gladly,” she said, walking down to the bin. She reached up onto her tip-toes and opened the lid, tossing the boxes inside before closing the lid tightly. When she walked back onto the porch, she went to walk inside but turned back to Yuri. “When are you gonna come inside?”

“Just a minute, okay? I’ll make lunch.”

“Okay,” she giggled, bouncing inside and closing the door behind her.

Yuri leaned back onto the swing and sighed, thinking how stupid it was of him to reconsider. He quit for her – he shouldn’t start all over again just because she’s about to chime past seven.

He stood up this time, pushing Otabek out of his thoughts, when he noticed the lone cigarette he pulled out earlier resting on the railing still. He picked up in his hand for a moment, twisting it between his fingers before he let it rest in between his thumb and index. He watched how with a pinch, the cigarette crumbled in on itself, breaking down into the littlest of pieces, disintegrating as it floated to the earth. There was nothing left of it when his fingers touched, and he didn’t even realise what he had done until all that remained was grey and brown bits of snow.

Yuri stared at it for a moment, then he walked inside.

**********************************************************************

**TO WHAT ONCE USED TO CONQUER:**

**“You will not defeat me.”**

**********************************************************************

 

It was around eleven till midnight when Yuri heard knocking at the door. A part of him already knew who was on the other side, but something drove him to go look anyways, just in the off chance he wasn’t right.

He wasn’t wrong.

Yuri had only opened the door about a crack and a half far, and he froze his movement in its tracks when he locked eyes then looked away with the last person he wanted to see on the other side.

Otabek pursed his lips together, avoiding his gaze and already knowing what he was going to say. “We need to talk,” was all he said, quietly. He gently tried to push the door open, but Yuri slammed the weight against him to shove him backwards off the door and to keep it still, unflinching. _“Please.”_

“Why?” Yuri scoffed. “So you can come in and tell me how wrong I am? So you can play the victim some more? Because Lord knows all you’re going to do when you walk in here is just—”

“—I was wrong.”

Yuri could feel the snowy breeze seep in through the crack of the door and faintly over by the open window. He reminded himself to close it when he went back inside – but as for his heart, he felt it peek a little.

“We’ve done our parts, and in this last incident, I took things too far. I’m sorry.”

Yuri finally looked at him, meeting his eyes and locking for just a few seconds. He was completely genuine. Yuri didn’t say anything at first, until finally Otabek spoke again, gently pushing against the doorframe. “Please let me in.”

Yuri waited, then with a deep breath he opened the door all the way. He watched Otabek walk back to his car and pull his sleeping daughter into his arms, walking back to carefully step inside, taking off his shoes and looking at him after he closed the door. They didn’t say anything for a moment, just kinda taking in the atmosphere of the moment, before Yuri finally gestured to the dining room where they could sit at the table and talk.

So, they did.

Otabek laid Aisha onto the couch gently and pulled the blanket overtop her, letting her sleep there for the time being by the fire while he walked into the dining room and sitting across Yuri at the table.

They didn’t say anything at first, Yuri avoided his gaze and being the first to talk. In fact, it was difficult to find the proper first words. He knew what they had done, but what he didn’t know was what they still felt after all this time.

“I just want to say, from the bottom of my heart, after everything that I’ve done, after everything that happened, I’m sorry,” Otabek said. His voice wavered, his eyes soft and submitting to the tension that Yuri had made. “I don’t want things to end like this. I don’t want you to be like this.” He slowly leaned forward, reaching his hand to gently push Yuri’s hair behind his ear, but Yuri’s head yanked backwards, still not turning his head or changing his face. He sighed. “Case in point.”

“What do you want from me?” Yuri asked again, his voice soft and quiet. He didn’t dart his eyes, he didn’t wipe the look from his face – he didn’t do anything other than breathe and stare at a little spot on the floor. “I know you’re here for something, and I just want to know what it is.”

“You.”

Finally, Yuri’s face faltered. His eyebrows furred together, but not in frustration, and he pressed his lips together into a straight line.

“Just you.”

Yuri thought about those words, then he shook his head. “Why?”

“Because—because—Yuri, _please_ , look at me.”

He took a moment, before finally he turned just his head to the side, bringing up his eyes so that Otabek could look at him. He didn’t say anything, but he listened as Otabek started to speak again, keeping their eyes locked away with each other. He needed to be genuine, he needed to see genuine, he needed to show genuine; and every word out of his mouth was just that: genuine.

“You _never_ made me unhappy.” Yuri wanted to call bullshit, but he decided to let the man tie his noose a little tighter before he could intervene with a cold interjection. “Looking back on it, it seemed that everything else was what made me – made _us_ unhappy – we were stuck in this situation that only seemed to be getting worse. And I guess…we took it out on each other.”

Yuri would be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought of it that way, but the negative was a little too overpowering. Those thoughts never lasted more than a few hours of that day.

“And I know I said some things – and I’ve done some things that were really, _really_ shitty, but at the same time, it came from reason. We were both just…miserable,” Otabek kept his voice down, forcing Yuri to lean in a little closer so that way he had to hear. “And in a way, we still are. But I don’t want us to be. You don’t deserve that. Veruca doesn’t deserve that. Aisha doesn’t deserve that.”

“Then what do we deserve?” Yuri asked, his eyes misty.

Otabek smiled tenderly, reaching a hand over and taking Yuri’s for a moment before he spoke again. “Joy.”

Yuri didn’t let his body move, but the tears slipped from his eyes anyway; they slid down his cheeks and dipped into his lips before trailing down his chin. There was so much – _so much_ – that he wanted to say. There was so much that he wanted to _do_ , but he couldn’t fix it on his own.

He breathed through his nose in sniffles, swallowing hard as Otabek leaned across the table to cradle his face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears away. They kept falling anyway, but Otabek was patient.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri said. These tears weren’t the same as before. These tears weren’t made of guilt or regret or sorrow – but instead, they were made of relief. They were the kind of tears of peace, like some kind of day of reckoning had just arrived. It was the kind that released what came before and turned it into a physical, emptying form. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Otabek smiled warmly, his thumbs continuing to chase tears off his skin. “It’s okay.”

Yuri shook his head. “No, it’s not.” He took in a shaking breath, allowing his body to mimic just some of the actions that came when he’d weep. “Look at what I’ve done. I was just so, so _angry_ – and I took you down with me, and—and now Veruca has to suffer because of me—”

Otabek shook his head at that. “You’re such a good Dad. She’s so lucky to have you. Honestly, Yuri, you’re the best kind of father she—”

“—she isn’t mine,” he wailed. It was more like a breathy wheeze, but his output of tears and exhaustion practically tripled at the words.

Otabek made a face, blinking a few times before the words finally registered in his mind. He couldn’t even ask what he meant, unsure how to find the correct words.

Yuri breathed in, his eyes now trailing down to a spot on the table, but his hands raised up and gently rested on Otabek’s wrists, holding him so he could have some kind of anchor to keep him on the shore, so he won’t sink so far down into the sea. “I love her. I love her so much. She’s my daughter, I love her, but she’s not _mine._ ”

“Is she your stepdaughter?” Otabek asked gently, and Yuri shook his head, his inhale trembling.

“I didn’t get with anybody after we broke up. I only could think of you,” Yuri explained. He looked back at his eyes again, noticing they, too, were a little wet and warm. “I found my father. He was out living his life and he got someone else knocked up too. He was going to leave her, just like he left me and my mother.”

Otabek shook his head in disbelief, angry that men in this world actually existed and feel that it’s okay and their right minds to do that. How could he _do_ that?

“But here’s the thing, this woman, she wanted to keep him. She…she was going to abandon her,” Yuri said. “She was going to throw her child away just so she can stay with some asshole that would leave her the next time she shows signs of a baby he made.”

Otabek seemed to understand. “So you took her.”

Yuri nodded. “I couldn’t just… _leave_ her. There was a child that was going to live out her life without some kind of family and I just…I had to act on that.” He took a deep breath. “So they waited it out. They let me name her, they gave me some money to keep her, and they signed complete rights over to me. Veruca’s been in my life ever since.”

Otabek let out a soft breath of “wow” before his eyes trailed away for a moment, looking at his own little girl on the couch and turned back, suddenly on the same plane as Yuri’s mind. “Does she know?”

Yuri shook his head. “Not yet. She’s only seven,” he said. “I want her to have some kind of sense of parental normality before it hurts her. She’s already asked a few questions, but I want to wait until I know she’s ready to take the news and not carry a weight for the rest of her life.” He took a deep breath, blinking out the last few drops of tears. “At least, lighten the weight.”

Otabek nodded, then smiled reassuringly. “Well, even when she does find out, that doesn’t change the fact you’ve been her Papa all her life. Regardless of your relationship with her, she’s, in fact, _yours._ ”

If anything, the fact that Yuri adopted his little sister to take care of her and give her the life he never had only made Otabek fall in love just a little bit more. The words hit Yuri square in the chest, and despite his face starting to dry, it only grew wet again with the influx of new tears.

“I want to be better for her. She doesn’t deserve this, she doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves better – _you_ deserve better,” he cried. “I’m sorry.”

This time, Otabek didn’t say anything. He just stood up and shook his head, walking around the table and pulling Yuri close to his chest for a tender embrace, wrapped up in his arms. He just let the boy cry – and he let himself cry with him – after years and _years_ of carrying a weight they didn’t need, they finally – _finally_ – set it free.

**********************************************************************

**IN THAT MOMENT:**

**Yuri fell in love all over again.**

**********************************************************************


	10. Cherry Blossoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: My Five Petaled Lilacs playlist on Spotify!! The link is here: https://open.spotify.com/user/twijill/playlist/6Gq9DQVjdthQ8jpCCIDMKX?si=1xaXlpVcSUG6eZ012ZKrJA   
> After giving y’all three chapters of angst time for some SWEET SHIT you might wanna see a dentist after this because there will be cavities when it’s over. If you want, check out my tumblrs minuetofthewild (for Zelda fics) and elenastidham (my personal). Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!  
> -Elena

**********************************************************************

**THE NEXT ERA CAME:**

**Healing.**

**********************************************************************

When Yuri woke up in the morning he was in a disastrous state of bliss. There was a kind of hierarchy of emotions in his head that prevented him from reeling, but at the same time he was blissfully aware of all that occurred around him. It was a strange in-between.

He stepped into the kitchen that morning, making eggs for Veruca while the window slowly started to show the sunrise. The smell woke her up, and after about five minutes of the scent emitting across stale air, Veruca’s little tired eyes peek around the corner.

“Papa what are you making?” She asked, stepping into the doorframe still in her “nightgown” that was two sizes too big – she’d grow into it, Yuri figured. It’d save them some money that way. Then again, it wasn’t even a real nightgown; it was one of Yuri’s t-shirts that he’d let her wear as nightgowns until she would stop growing at a rapid rate. She yawned, rubbing her eyes and stretching her back against the doorframe.

“Breakfast,” he smiled as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head and gently ruffled her hair. “Perfect timing. Go sit, I’ll give you this to eat. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

“What are we doing?” She asked as she sat down.

Yuri put her eggs on her plate and handed it to her so she started to eat it while he prepared his own plate. He made toast in the meantime. “A few things,” he said. “I think you’d probably like it.”

He sat down across from her, handing her a set of toast slices as he started to eat his breakfast. He pulled open his phone and pulled up YouTube, taking a deep breath as he did. “You know, baby, I haven’t been the most honest with you recently.”

Veruca looked at him, confused, and he didn’t say anything else before he slid the phone across the table so she can look at the screen. The boy in the video looked no older than seventeen, the 2018 Winter Olympics logo in the bottom left corner. It was silence for just a moment, before finally, soft strings started to echo in the arena, and the boy in red started to skate. The announcers in the video were honourably generous in their remarks, doting on and on about how fluid his movements where and how intense the emotions were behind each jump.

The boy may have looked no older than seventeen, but he looked so in love.

Veruca watched, completely mesmerised, as Yuri kept his eyes glued to the screen but for completely different reasons altogether. How beautiful life felt then – how _simple._ He remembered this skate, and he remembered it well. He remembered how love felt then and he could only compare it to how it felt now.

It wasn’t until the camera captured a specific moment on his face before Veruca gasped and shot straight up in her seat. “That’s you!”

Yuri smiled sadly, then he nodded. “Yeah, it’s me.” He didn’t peel his eyes away from the screen. He took a deep breath. “I won gold there.”

She stared at him, amazed. “You were a figure skater?”

He chuckled and nodded again. “One of the best in the world.”

As the skate drew to an end, she watched, amazed, as his arms outstretched to one particular person in the audience. The camera flipped, showing the face of Otabek Altin on the other side, his expression just as shocked as she was, but for a completely different reason altogether. “That’s Mr. Altin!” she pointed, and when the video ended her eyes darted up and looked at him. “So you were _both_ figure skaters! That’s why you two knew each other!” She finished her food and sat there, in awe, before her face hardened. “Wait, so you knew how to skate this whole time?”

Yuri expected that question. He inhaled slowly, calmly, and his nod was subtle.

“Why did you lie to me?” She asked, almost hurt. “I thought you said we’re not supposed to lie.”

“I did say that, and you’re not supposed to,” Yuri reinforced, then exhaled. “But I did anyway because I made a lot of mistakes in skating – really dumb ones – and I was scared that you were going to make those same mistakes but it’d be so much worse.” He shook his head. “But it’s silly of me to think that. So, I’m sorry.”

Veruca nodded, looking down at the screen that resorted into the simple thumbnail of Yuri, completely glossy-eyed in love and a gold medal hanging around his neck. She never would have thought.

“I don’t wanna be a skater, though,” she shrugged. “I wanna be a boxer. I just wanted to learn how to skate.”

“I know babydoll, I was just paranoid,” he reached over and ruffled her hair a little bit before taking her empty plate and standing. “Go get dressed,” he said. “We’re going skating, just me and you.”

Her ears perked up. “Really?”

“Did I stutter?”

Quickly, Veruca leapt from the chair, running down into her room to go get into some clothes. Yuri smiled softly, walking back to his room to do the same thing. He got into some simple clothes – nothing too crazy – but stopped once he stepped in front of his dresser. He stared at it for just a moment, before he opened a small box sitting on it and opened it wide. There was a small pair of simple yet elegant pearl earrings, something he hadn’t worn in a long time.

There was a brief debate in his head, before he gave in and repierced his ears trying to put them back in. He took a deep breath, remembering the feeling they gave him when he wore them for the first time. There was a celebration then – a collection of hugs and tears that all gathered into his arms and he carried them without any weight added whatsoever.

Now, the earrings felt particularly heavy.

**********************************************************************

**ONE LAST TIME ALONE:**

**Yuri never wore these earrings again.**

**********************************************************************

 

Veruca was bouncing with excitement until she realised they were taking a bus in the wrong way. She tugged at Yuri’s sleeve, telling him that the skating rink was “that way” with a point in the opposite direction, but he just shook his head.

“We’re going to a special skating rink,” he said.

They got off the bus at the train station, taking the train to St. Petersburg.

When they arrived, their destination was a short taxi drive away from the station, the familiar shades of white and grey line each building, and he couldn’t help but stop right outside the entrance just to stare at how grand it had gotten since then. Well, technically it never changed, but suddenly Yuri felt very, very small.

Veruca rushed inside first, already at the counter by the time Yuri stepped inside. She was on her tip-toes to the counter, trying to act as adult as possible while the kind Japanese man behind the counter smiled warmly at her and spoke to her in very fluent Russian.

“Are you skating with anybody today?” he asked her, leaning down on the counter so it was easier for her to maintain eye contact.

Veruca nodded. “My Papa is with me.”

Yuri chuckled softly through his nose, watching from a small distance as he waited for them to finish before he could step in. He thought it was cute.

“Alright sweetheart, can I have a last name so I can put you down for the rental?” he asked sweetly.

“Plisetsky,” she replied simply.

His face faltered. His smile seemed to have drifted somewhere, but almost into a state of confusion rather than any other emotion. His voice inched softer. “Come again?”

“She was right,” Yuri said finally, stepping behind her. “It’s Plisetsky.”

Yuuri’s eyes trailed up, looking from the child to the adult, suddenly locking eyes with a little boy that he knew long ago. “Oh—oh my _god,_ ” he whispered softly under his breath as he fumbled with unlocking the door next to him. Yuri’s smile held a faint breeze of nostalgia in the tone. Once the door was unlocked, he ran out of the area and quickly wrapped his arms around him in a nearly tackled hug. “I—We thought you were _dead._ ”

“I was,” Yuri chuckled softly. He took a deep breath and hugged him right back, noting how Yuuri was trying to hide the fact he was crying into his shoulder. Their embrace didn’t last longer than a minute or so, but it felt so much longer – so much tighter.

Yuuri pulled away, wiping his eyes and sniffling then looking down to Veruca. “She’s yours?” he asked, kneeling down and looking at her. His voice shook. “God, she’s so beautiful.” He stood up again, looking between them. “Are you guys free afterwards today? Do you want to go out to eat?”

“Papa, who is this?” Veruca asked quietly, trying not be rude as she looked up at Yuri, who smirked.

“Well, you can call him Mr. Piggy—”

“—Oh shut up,” Yuuri laughed, wiping his cheeks again and looked at her. “My name is Yuuri, sweetheart. Your daddy’s just mean to me.”

“Just call him Uncle Yuuri; or Uncle Katsudon if you wanna be silly.” She giggled and Yuri playfully ruffled her hair. “This is Veruca.”

“God, she’s—” Yuuri took a deep breath, peeking into the rink and spotting someone. “He’s coaching right now, but you bet the moment we – you know what, get your skates, come here.” There was something about Yuuri Katsuki and how he tended to act when unprepared. It was a mixture of anxiety and at the same time a little bit of comfort; it all depended on who he was around.

Plisetskys? Home.

Yuri took their skates and followed through a set of doors before they stood before a wide sea of ice. Yuuri’s movements were fast, making him considerably ahead of the other two as he ran to his husband, his cheeks wet and breaking shaky. “Viktor!” he called out, almost panicked.

Viktor quickly turned his head, not even noticing the Plisetskys a few feet behind as his eyes immediately darted to his love, and instantly his mind switched to panic mode. “Yuuri, what’s wrong?” he instantly asked, gliding over to the railing to meet him and his hands reached across the barrier there, cradling his face. “What happened? Deep breath, Yuuri, okay? Breathe with me. One—”

“—No, no,” Yuuri cried, shaking his head and gesturing to the side. _“Look.”_

Viktor’s eyes followed where his arm pointed, his vision flying away until it locked and targeted what he was supposed to see. _That’s_ when he knew. His eyes widened, and he froze for a brief moment before he finally pushed himself and spoke. “Jesus, Mary, and—” he turned back to some teenagers on the ice, gesturing to their routine. “—Work on your axel, keep an eye on the landing leg, and make sure your arms aren’t flailing!” He turned back to Yuri, then he quickly made his way to where the sea of ice crashed to shore.

He scrambled to cover the blades on his shoe, before he fast-walked in a direct b-line to the man he hadn’t seen in over ten years. “Where the hell have you been, _Bratishka?”_ he asked. The name never left, it seems. Yuri couldn’t tell if his eyes were misty or not by the time their bodies collided for a hug. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Moscow,” Yuri said in a breathy chuckle. Viktor smelled the exact same as he did when he was a child.

When he let go, he just laughed, throwing his hands into the air. “The _one_ place we thought you wouldn’t be,” Viktor shook his head, his eyes unsure whether to release tears of relief or joy. “It felt too obvious.” He looked down, noticing the little girl staring up at him with wide eyes. “Oh my god, she looks just like you.”

Veruca waved shyly, and that’s when Yuri smiled at her. “That’s Uncle Viktor,” he said. “Viktor, this is Veruca.”

Viktor instantly clutched his heart, looking up at Yuri – a little boy trapped inside the body of a man. He looked at her and smiled so wide, his mouth curving into a heart as he spoke. “Your name is Veruca? That’s a pretty name.” He knelt down in front of her to make their vision eye-to-eye. “How old are you, _lapushka_?”

She didn’t answer at first, before Yuri nudged her gently. It was a nudge that said _you can trust him,_ and so she did. “I’m turning eight in May.”

“That’s just a couple months away, isn’t it?” Viktor asked. She nodded. “You’re about the same age as my oldest son. He’s going to be nine this July.”

“Wait, you have another?” Yuri asked, looking at him with worried eyes. It wasn’t worried with a negative connotation, but it was worry. “I thought you just have Ai.” He thought for a moment before making a face. “Christ, how old is Ai?”

“That’s what happens when you drop off the face of the Earth for a decade,” Viktor chuckled as he rose to a stand. “We have three kids. Ai’s thirteen, the upcoming nine-year-old in question is Mischa, and our youngest is Yuzuyu. He’s five.”

Before Yuri could comment on how difficult it sounded, Veruca came in with a comment on her own. “Oh, that’s Aisha’s age!”

“Who’s Aisha?” Yuuri asked sweetly, following the silence between the four. The only sound was blades tearing itself across the ice.

“She’s my best friend,” she said. “Papa’s friend, Mr. Altin, is her dad.”

Both Viktor and Yuuri made a face at that name, it seemed. Yuuri did a better job at hiding any resentment about it, then offered to help her put her shoes on to skate, while Viktor just looked at Yuri for a long time, now noticing the earrings. “Mr. Altin…?” he asked with an emphasis on being discreet.  

Yuri saw his gaze and shook his head. “I just wanted to put them on.”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed. “We need to talk.”

**********************************************************************

**TWO THINGS LEARNED:**

**1\. A million things happened in-between.**   
**2\. Veruca was a naturally gifted skater.**

**********************************************************************

 

She always got her footing right. There was a special kind of light aloofness that strings with her movements, the kind that pulls you in and keeps you there – she was just like him. Yet, she was a little more delicate. A little more pure.

Yuri watched her skate. He was sitting on the bench next to Viktor and Yuuri and he kept his eyes on the little girl seamlessly flowing along the ice with each glide. It’s kind of a shame; if he could afford it, she probably would have been one of the greatest skaters in the world – if she wanted to be.

“A boxer?” Yuuri asked, finally, after watching her for a moment. “I don’t really see it.”

“You didn’t see Eros in yourself, either,” Yuri pointed out. He glanced over. “You haven’t seen the fire she hides.”

“If she’s anything like you, she’s got it,” Viktor mumbled.

Yuri nodded once, mostly to himself, before he stood up and walked to the edge of the railing and leaned over, allowing himself to stand in skates for the first time all over again. Veruca made her way around the rink in her fifth lap, returning to him and stopping to look up. “Why don’t you come skate, Papa?”

He shook his head. “I probably won’t be good anymore.”

“That’s okay.”

He smiled softly at her, and she reached up to take his hand, tugging him to move forward. At first, he was going to protest, but she was already gliding with her grip so tight and Yuri couldn’t help but walk along. When he reached the ending of the rail where the ice finally meets, he breathed.

_Ten years, Yuri._

Veruca pulled him again, but he wasn’t moving, and it wasn’t until he felt a hand on his back gently shove him in when there was no longer resistance along the tracks. He inhaled sharply, holding his breath as his legs started to shake.

Suddenly he was in the middle of the rink, Veruca letting go and watching his eyes as she pushed herself backwards. “You’re doing great, Papa,” she said sweetly, kicking small laps around the boy.

Then, the ice spoke – a gentle kind of reassurance that never once lifted its head or raised its tone – a voice that was small, but no longer meek.

_Welcome home._

If someone had asked Yuri to describe the sudden feeling in his chest when he decided to breathe again, he couldn’t. There wasn’t any possible way to explain the flood of emotions that trailed down his spine and spread into his chest. There couldn’t have been.

It started with his first step – a simple glide – before it turned into a leap. All the tiny moments in his kitchen where he’d catch himself in mid-spin finally started to play out. All the routines he composed in his head were finally being choreographed. All the thousands of times where he had to teach himself to be afraid of the ice melted away, all the moments where he wanted to reach out and scream had dissolved into a blissful, agonisingly beautiful silence.

Except this time, he wasn’t skating for just one person. He was skating for two.

**********************************************************************

**THINK ABOUT IT LIKE LUMINOUS:**

**Except he finally let it be.**

**********************************************************************

 


	11. Gardenia and Cinnamon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: My Five Petaled Lilacs playlist on Spotify!! The link is here: https://open.spotify.com/user/twijill/playlist/6Gq9DQVjdthQ8jpCCIDMKX?si=1xaXlpVcSUG6eZ012ZKrJA   
> It’s almost finished! We’re in the home stretch! This is going to be super sweet and nostalgic to String Theory if you read that. Also, be sure to check out my tumblrs minuetofthewild (for Zelda fics) and elenastidham (my personal). Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this!  
> -Elena

**********************************************************************

**THE ALTERNATE:**

**Dinner and wanting.**

**********************************************************************

After insisting dozens of times, Viktor had taken their families out to eat together. It wasn’t anywhere too fancy, but it did look very nice. The waitress was sweet enough to push some tables together so it could fit everybody in the party, and so Veruca found herself sat between Yuri and a teenage girl.

Thankfully, she was sweet enough to make her feel included, noticing that her brothers were in their own little world and ignoring the girls. To balance it, she simply rummaged through her small purse for a pen and flipped over their paper menus so she can draw pictures on the backside.

“I’m not good at drawing by myself. I’m good at colouring,” Veruca told her.

Ai shook her head. “Nobody’s good when they just start, they just gotta practice a lot.” She looked around the tables and then grabbed the small vase of flowers in the centre and brought it close to them. “Here, try drawing this.”

She made a face at them, having never seen those kind of flowers before. She tugged at Yuri’s sleeve, pointing his attention to the vase. “What are those?” she asked.

“Those are Lilacs,” Yuri explained. He paused, remembering those flowers, before he smiled softly and realised that there was memory that he could recreate – one that he had only experienced before with his grandfather. “Do you know what you’re supposed to do with them?” he asked.

Veruca shook her head.

Carefully, he took the vase and sat it between them, now drawing the attention of the other three kids at the table that have never heard of this legend before. “Now, you see these flowers? Each of them have four petals,” he explained. “But sometimes, you’ll find one that has _five_ petals.”

“Really?” Veruca asked, amazed.

“It’s true,” Yuri grinned. “I found some myself.”

“So we have to look for the ones with five petals?” Ai thought out loud. “But what for?”

“You see, they’re good luck if you find them,” Yuri continued. He rummaged through a couple, not finding any on the spot but more for a demonstration. “And when you find one, you’re supposed to make a wish, then eat the Lilac.”

“Ew,” the youngest in the back, Yuzuyu, cried. “That’s gross.”

Yuri chuckled. “They actually taste pretty yummy,” he said. “But if you do that, then your wish will come true.”

Yuuri glanced at Viktor, making a face that asked if what he was saying was true, and Viktor just nodded a couple times. “I remember my parents teaching me that. I’ve never found one.”

Yuri shrugged, placing the vase back in front of Veruca as she frantically started to search through the petals. “I’ve only ever found one once, and that was when I was like, sixteen.”

Veruca huffed, pushing the vase away from her after only a few minutes. Yuri gave her a look as she pouted. “You know, babydoll, sometimes you’ll be looking for hours. Sometimes it just kinda…pops out at you—”

He paused, noticing an oddity, before he reached in and looked, plucking out a flower that did, in fact, contain five petals. Veruca gasped at it, then sighed that she wasn’t the one that found it.

“You can have this wish,” Yuri said to her without thinking about it, but she shook her head.

“You found it.” She sat up, then pulled in the other two vases from the other tables that were brought together and started looking through those as well. “That’s your wish, Papa. I’ll find one someday.”

Yuri stared at the flower for a moment, suddenly two different wishes flickered across his mind. One of which was the exact same as the one he made almost seventeen.

He wanted it. He wanted to wish for it again so bad – but he knew what happened the last time he wished. It was too rushed. It was too intense. It was something that needed a lot of work and a lot more time and overall, it needed to be a lot more slow. If he truly wanted to start all over again, he needed to take his time.

So instead, he ate it, thinking of something else.

**********************************************************************

**THE NEW WISH:**

**_Please, give Veruca the best life._ **

**********************************************************************

 

“Hold still.”

Otabek couldn’t contain his giggling, trying to keep himself together despite constantly squirming in reaction to the tingling tickles on the back of his head.

“I’m honestly going to fuck up your whole undercut if you don’t sit still, please work with me here,” Yuri held in a laugh, holding his head still as he carefully guided the buzzing razor up the back of Otabek’s neck, carefully trying to trim the hair.

“Yura, it tickles,” Otabek took a deep breath, clutching onto the sink to try and focus his energy there so he wouldn’t wiggle so much.

Yuri shook his head, chuckling while shaving. “I never would have thought the insanely cool Otabek Altin would be _ticklish._ ”

“You are too,” Beka grinned.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

It was the summer of 2019, and they were so in love.

**********************************************************************

**THE FUNNIEST THING:**

**That love never changed.**

**********************************************************************

 

The days suddenly came to a point to where Yuri didn’t mind if Otabek came over anymore. It was a typical ringing in his ears that stemmed from somewhere in his chest every time the knocking came. Veruca never minded – having the chance to play with Aisha every chance she could was definitely the highlight of the upcoming spring.

It was the first day of March, and Veruca woke him up with some ice cream.

“Happy birthday, Papa,” she grinned. Yuri wasn’t too keen on the idea of ice cream first thing in the morning – damn, he really _was_ getting old – but he understood the logical thought process a child would have in thinking somebody else would want a bowl of vanilla soft serve.

Sharing what they love with who they love – it was that pure essence of childhood and love and family that made Yuri want to protect this little girl from all the awful that existed in the outside world. It was just impossible not to adore her.

“Thank you, babydoll,” he yawned, sitting up and slowly started to eat the ice cream. She climbed up on the bed and sat next to him, then leaned over to rest her head against his arm. “What do you want to do today?”

“Can we make cookies again?” she asked.

He looked at her with a smile, then he kissed the top of her head. “Of course we can.”

“Is Mr. Altin coming over today?”

“Probably,” he shrugged as he finished one of the scoops before giving her the bowl. “You can have the rest, pumpkin.”

She definitely had the rest.

As expected, Otabek did come later that afternoon, a box in his hand and a kind of aloof nervousness around him. Yuri didn’t feel a tinge of sickness anymore every time they made eye contact, and their conversations now were something much more light. Something that didn’t keep Yuri on the edge of hysterically breaking down or killing Otabek without mercy. Something that reminded him that they were just young – now not that much older.

It was nearing the beginning of spring, and once again, they were so in love. 

The way they’d talk to each other almost reminded him of when they were friends – just friends – the word best came somewhere before. It felt nice, being alive again. It felt just so wonderful to be able to breathe.

“Okay, Yuri, I just want to know one thing,” Otabek said nonchalantly as they set the table, preparing it for dinner they were in the process of making. The girls were in their own little world again, except this time they were wearing princess military uniforms. “The only thing that I want to ask about this.”

Yuri hummed, glancing at him from across the table with raised eyebrows.

“Am I bigger?”

Yuri snorted ( _“fuck”_ ), nearly choking and having to put the silverware down to reach a hand up to his mouth, keeping it covered for just a moment out of the pure shock and hilarity in his statement. He looked at Otabek, studying his face for a moment and realising he may have been joking but also completely serious.

“Christ, Beka,” Yuri laughed now, not even realising the name he said. He didn’t catch the way it made Otabek completely melt. He took a deep breath between his incoherent giggles, before finally light-heartedly nodding. “Yeah, you are.”

Otabek made a fist with his hand and brought it in to his chest in a manner of success, clearly being playful, before grinning at Yuri.

“You’re too much,” Yuri giggled, not even looking at him.

In that moment he didn’t even notice Otabek staring, his eyes preoccupied somewhere away while another pair of eyes glistened with tender. Even in ten years, Yuri Plisetsky was still earth-shatteringly beautiful.

Yuri ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back, noticing how it had grown a little longer since he last paid attention to it. “I need to cut my hair again,” he commented.

Otabek glanced at him. “Why not grow it out again? I liked your long hair.”

Yuri thought about it, then shook his head. “It ties me down.”

It made sense. His long hair was a heavy reminder on his head about everything ten years before – and with that out of the way, cutting it all off was one of the most liberating things. Otabek didn’t push it, but he knew what it meant.

As dinner came and went Yuri started to prepare everything so they could make cookies, but Otabek gently tugged at his hand. “You haven’t opened your present yet,” he said.

Yuri sighed dramatically, but allowed himself to be taken into the living room where he was greeted with a box. It was an okay size, nothing like the size of the tiger – which now, he unashamedly would admit he sleeps with practically every night.

Yuri opened the box, his eyebrows furring together when he saw that it was a collar gently placed on a sheet of silk. He didn’t know what that implied.

“If I remember correctly,” Otabek thought out loud. “You were telling me you were wanting to get Veruca a kitten.”

That’s when his eyes widened and his head snapped up. “You didn’t.”

“Not yet,” Otabek brought a finger up as a sign to wait. “I was going to wait until you were ready, and then I was going to let you pick it out. I’m also including the shots, the food, the litter box, and a couple toys for good measure.”

“Beka, that’s so _expensive_ —”

“—Yes, but I told you not to worry about the price. Plus, I know that you’d love it just as much as she would.” He shrugged with a halfway smile, his eyes growing a little fonder at the name. “Besides, it was a little difficult to get you a present based on your request of ‘just get Veruca something.’”

Yuri looked back down at the collar – a beautiful hue of purple and grey, decorated with little patterns of embroidery within the swede. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “She’s going to love it. _I’m_ going to love it.”

He hesitated, before finally giving in and gently turning back the name. His voice was nothing beneath the range of tender, his heart swelling and each other part full. “You know I’d give you anything, Yura.”

Yuri paused, thinking about how just a few months before he would have instantly torn him apart for using that name, remembering how quick he was to snap when the string of sounds dripped from his lips. But now? It seemed that nothing was the same.

They looked at each other, their eyes making brief contact before quickly scanning the rest of each other’s bodies. There was a moment, a beat, where nothing happened – nothing at all – until finally something collided in the middle.

**********************************************************************

**THINGS A KISS COULD SAY:**

**What a thousand words could not.**

**********************************************************************


	12. Ambrosia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language, Sweet Shit™  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: My Five Petaled Lilacs playlist on Spotify!! The link is here: https://open.spotify.com/user/twijill/playlist/6Gq9DQVjdthQ8jpCCIDMKX?si=1xaXlpVcSUG6eZ012ZKrJA   
> Okay, I really debated on putting chapter 12 and 13 in the same chapter since I know for a fact 13 is going to be pretty short, but I decided that 13 would be more of an epilogue kind of chapter (and I do plan on writing an actual epilogue to wrap up this trilogy)! But really, it’s kinda funny and ironically sad that as my passion for Otayuri is dying, my passion for this fic is suddenly igniting during these last couple chapters. I guess it’s the “finish the job” kind of determination. Anyways, if you’re interested, check out my tumblrs minuetofthewild (for Zelda fics) and elenastidham (my personal). Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this!  
> -Elena

**********************************************************************

**THE FIRST LILAC:**

**More than 15 years ago.**

**********************************************************************

The real comedy was how they could never resist each other. Despite the haunting and the aching and the constant lingering that dragged on for years, they would always find that they would just completely _melt_ with each kiss. They never lasted long.

And through each kiss they gave there was a desperate touch to follow because they _knew._ Yuri didn’t know when his head was suddenly resting on a pillow with his body laid across the couch, but he did keep up with the fact that Otabek was on top of him, cradling the tops of his arms.

They pulled apart for just a moment, allowing themselves to breathe, with Yuri’s delicate hand gently scratching the back of Otabek’s neck, admiring the sight of how his cheeks always tinged pink from the kisses he gave.

“I saw your skate,” Otabek whispered, finally, before leaning back in to press his lips to the soft strip of skin where Yuri’s jaw and neck would meet.

Yuri hummed. “What skate?”

“The one you did in St. Petersburg. Someone recorded you,” he lifted his head. “You didn’t know? You were viral for weeks.”

Yuri shook his head, his breathing heavy. “I don’t pay attention anymore.”

Otabek moved his hands to cup his face and gently kissed him again, this time his touch lingering before he pulled apart to speak again. “You were exquisite,” he breathed. “Even without any music you still manage to take my breath away.”

It prompted a breathy chuckle and a deeper blush.

“I also saw the earrings.”

Yuri froze, but not stiff – it was something he was comfortable with, but it wasn’t something he expected. He glanced away, maintaining eye contact there out of embarrassment until he felt a finger slowly guide his face back upwards.

“You kept them? After all this time?” He asked.

Yuri nodded, and with a soft breath he only could say, “yeah.”

This time, he saw the look on Otabek’s face completely melt. He started with a kiss on his forehead, then cheek, before gradually moving back to where their lips would meet, making sure to keep it slow and rhythmic in case he ever wanted to push him away.

He didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in, and he whispered something – requesting something – the voice carefully caressing his ears and tickling onto his temple. Otabek flushed a deep red, studying his face for a moment to see that he was completely serious before he smirked softly, his tongue prodding the inner corner of his cheek. Yuri felt his body heat up just at the image and the thought.

“Well then, we’ll just have to wait until after the girls go to sleep.”

 

* * *

 

By the age of twenty-three Yuri had visited Kazakhstan more times than he could count on his fingers. He stopped paying attention once he reached the double digits, but there was something about this particular time and the look Mama carried in her eyes that made it just that much more special.

They had just announced their engagement to the family and their love was purely in plain sight. The ring on Yuri’s finger felt so lightweight and freeing, holding him only to one person that he never expected to turn into a weight.

The funny thing about that weight is: it grew light again in the end.

However, it seemed that Mama knew just a little bit longer about this engagement than Yuri had, because she went out to Almaty’s finest jewellery store in search for a pair of earrings.

In Kazakhstan’s traditional customs with weddings, the parents of the groom would buy a pair of earrings for the bride-to-be, making the engagement official and symbolising their long-lasting life together. Following this, the family will have feasts, celebrating their engagement and wishing them happiness till their lives would end. She had seen it happen time and time again with her children and she cried with each one.

Erkin’s was the first – a little more special due to being completely unknown – but after his wife’s unfortunate passing after being married for three years, he ended up being the third when he remarried several years after the heartache.

Tamara was the fifth – the last child to wed a couple years after Otabek’s marriage with his ex-wife – and while she wasn’t the one putting the earrings on her, she was there when it happened from the groom’s mother. They remained married for the rest of their lives.

Otabek’s was second – and he was the fourth, and he was the sixth – and while he was the final one, Mama knew that Yuri would have been the one in the end that deserved that pair. The initial split devastated her just as much as it destroyed her son, but somewhere in her heart she _knew_ that this too, was going to pass.

And it did.  

**********************************************************************

**THE WEDDING WHERE THEY MET:**

**Tamara invited Yuri on purpose.**

**********************************************************************

 

They had only been apart for a week.

It was the longest seven days of his life – some of the most miserable, too. Otabek remembered going home the next day ready to beg for their life back, but that life was gone. Among the shattered frames and scattered glass there was a sudden realisation that one half was missing; and just as he suspected – Yuri had left.

And he _cried._

His body just crumbled apart, and he _sobbed_.

He didn’t know what to do. He said every single thing he didn’t mean to just because he wanted it to hurt, and he just permanently removed himself from the best thing he ever had. Otabek lost him. Otabek lost him, and it was all his fault.

“I’m sorry,” he wanted to call. “I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

But Yuri’s phone never rang.

**********************************************************************

**THE SEARCH:**

**Three years.**

**********************************************************************

 

When Otabek finally had a lead, he was ecstatic. His mother seemed have been the only one at this point that wasn’t telling him to give up on trying to find him, but he didn’t seem to listen to anyone.

There was a _chance_ there. He could _feel_ it.

He had been in contact with one of his DJ friends who had recently moved to Moscow and told him that he saw someone similar to Yuri Plisetsky recently in a suburban parking lot. He had flown over as soon as he could, staying with him for the night before he set out the next day looking around desperately in a place where he’d most likely be.

It wouldn’t have been so difficult had Yuri not gone completely off the grid.

He didn’t know if he deleted his social media or just got new, secret accounts altogether, but Yuri hadn’t posted a thing since they broke up. His Facebook status actually still said they were engaged.

He was visiting for a week, and he couldn’t find Yuri at all in those seven days. However, on the eighth, when he was going to leave, he left early just to pry for a little more time. He hoped that maybe, _maybe_ in that hour left before he had to go to the airport that there would be at least a chance for a small talk – something, anything, so he could apologise and try to heal things. He hoped that somehow, someway—

And there he was.

He was by the window, his eyes scanning somewhere along a shelf in a gas station nearby where he lived, and his heart _flipped._ His hair was cut, Otabek noticed that, and that was fine, but as he walked up to the convenience store to try and say some kind of hello, he noticed one thing, and he froze.

His heart suddenly plummeted, and the realisation sank in to Otabek that he had already moved on. He stared for a little while, instantly turning away when Yuri felt eyes on him and looked up, hoping that they didn’t make eye contact as he started to walk back to his bike, tears staining the corners of his cheeks.

**********************************************************************

**WHAT THE EYES SEE AND THE EARS HEAR:**

**A baby girl in a purple nightgown.**

**********************************************************************

 

Yuri lied still, his breathing heavy but overall irrevocably calm. He could hear water running from the next room over where Otabek was cleaning up. He didn’t bother to turn, allowing himself to stare and heave at the ceiling, his body cooling and his hand resting against his chest.

Moments later Otabek returned, sitting down on the edge of the other side of the bed, sighing softly as he did. He paused for a moment, before taking a deep breath, turning off the light and laying down with the blanket.

Yuri waited a few seconds, before he finally pulled his attention away from the sky beyond his roof.

“You know Otabek, I’ve been thinking.”

He paused, his eyes flicking down about 45 degrees for a moment before he turned his whole head to face Otabek. Their eyes met, then he continued where he left off in the sentence. “About us. About trying again…about trying _us_ again.”

Otabek froze, staring for a moment and studying his face. He was serious.

When it finally sank in what he said and everything he meant, he almost wanted to cry. His smile was unavoidable, and when he leaned in it was only to do one thing.

**********************************************************************

**WITH A KISS AND WITH A VOW:**

**“I do.”**

**********************************************************************


	13. Red Roses and Five Petaled Lilacs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language, Sweet Shit™  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: My Five Petaled Lilacs playlist on Spotify!! The link is here: https://open.spotify.com/user/twijill/playlist/6Gq9DQVjdthQ8jpCCIDMKX?si=1xaXlpVcSUG6eZ012ZKrJA   
> This is it, guys, the last chapter! I’ll have my sappy conclusion at the ending dialogue (what is it called, author’s notes?) as I normally do, so when this is finished you can read that there. Anyways, if you’re interested, check out my tumblrs minuetofthewild (for Zelda fics) and elenastidham (my personal). Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy the final chapter of Five Petaled Lilacs!  
> -Elena

**********************************************************************

**WHAT THEY NEEDED, WHAT THEY HAD:**

**Time.**

**********************************************************************

Regardless of who they are – or who they were – regardless of what they have – or what they had – this reunion of love that they shared was a testament of time, something that they were going to carry for the rest of their lives. It weighed on Yuri when he woke up that next morning, a comfortable weight, of course, but he felt it nonetheless.

He wore this love with stars in his eyes and he cradled it with his coffee. He wore himself tucked against Otabek’s arms, all these years of missing caught up to catch and find all the little elements to keep him _here._

This love would carry on until the end of time.

**********************************************************************

**BUT EVEN THEN:**

**They’d love each other when it ends.**

**********************************************************************

 

It took a lot of explaining, and it’s going to take a lot of convincing, but Viktor was content with having Otabek back around if he was able to prove himself once again worthy of his little brother. It may have been ten years, but he still worried about that boy.

Despite the struggles with trust, they were going to warm up.

Aisha seemed to have gotten along with Viktor and Yuuri’s three kids, but she always had a bias towards Veruca. Nothing personal. However it didn’t seem to change the fact that they all just loved to dote over her.

So of course when Veruca’s birthday came, they completely spoiled her rotten.

It was a nice change of pace from all the birthdays she’s had before, where it was just her and Yuri spending some quality time together and she’d get about two presents and a cake, but she would always look back on those first birthday with fondness. By the time her birthday came she did start to suspect something between Papa and Mr. Altin, but she never bothered to say anything about it.

She was just happy that her wishes finally came true.

The cake was much bigger this year, as expected, and she was never used to playing with so many other kids in her bedroom all at once. Ai didn’t really play with them, though, it was more like she was there to supervise.

Veruca managed to slip away from her friends for a moment, bouncing over to where her Papa sat with the other adults in the living room. She crawled into Yuri’s lap, curling up against his chest to hug him as he just smiled and held her, rocking her gently as he talked to Viktor – something about skating again.

“Papa,” she said quietly. “Thank you for the lilacs.”

He chuckled softly, and when he heard an engine shutting off outside he sat up, patting her back twice to indicate for her to climb off of him, so she did. “That’s not your last present, babydoll,” Yuri confessed to her. He thought it was cute that she figured the vase of flowers in her room would be the last thing she’d receive for the day. “There’s one more present, and it’s from Mr. Altin and I.”

He made her sit down for a brief moment as he stepped outside, meeting with Otabek before the two came back inside, this time with a small box with a bow on it and holes along the sides.

They placed the box down in front of her on the coffee table, sitting on either side of her before she stood. Veruca studied the box for a moment, before her tiny fingers started to peel away the box lid with curiosity.

She peeked inside. It meowed.

Veruca let out a gasp, turning to face the two with wide eyes and her whole body suddenly bouncing with joy. “We got a kitty?” She cried, almost unbelieving.

“Damn, she’s a cat person,” Viktor mumbled jokingly, prompting his husband to playfully elbow his chest.

“She’s all yours,” Yuri smiled warmly. “Do you want to name her?”

She nodded feverishly.

Otabek chuckled, and Yuri continued his question. “Alright then, what do you want to name her?”

Veruca thought for a moment, reaching inside the box and picking the little kitten up into her arms. It had a beautiful purple collar on around its neck.

“I wanna name her Svetlana,” she said, very matter-of-fact.

Yuri could only think back to when he first got Mariska and Potya, the names for them were nothing less than childish, but his Grandpa loved it anyway, just as he loved her name. “Svetlana it is,” he smiled. “Be very careful with her, she’s still a baby.”

Veruca nodded again, setting the baby down to let her explore her new surroundings, not peeling her hand away from the fur. “Of course, Papa,” she said. She turned, running back to them and pulling them both into a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she repeated, like a prayer. “You’re the best parents ever.”

 

* * *

 

He wanted to throw up.

His fingers were shaking as he tied the knot, the laces slipping past his grip as he tried to replicate the same motions he’d done years ago. It would bring him good luck if he tied them like this – and he needed all that luck he could get.

Despite a year of training, he felt that he didn’t train nearly enough as he should. He had gone _ten years_ before this, so the eleventh, needless to say, was a little rusty. He heard his phone on the bench, and with a deep breath he glanced over – it was Otabek.

**> >They’re in the front, by the left of the entrance. The rink is pretty packed, but you’re gonna do great. You always have.**

It literally all started as a playful idea that they had tossed around on their one month re-anniversary, but it ended up something that snowballed into a literal idea – and since Viktor and Yuuri own the rink in St. Petersburg it was only logical to start there. He just didn’t realise that things would get this far.

Not that he regretted it, but he was scared.

He could hear the noise from behind the curtain wall, his breathing unsteady and equally uneven, his legs bouncing as he finished tying his laces. He had five minutes.

Otabek was on the other end – he was going to arrive for the second half – so on the area he was in, he was completely alone. He tried to take a few deep breaths, but none of it was working. He wasn’t scared about the people. He wasn’t scared about his new image. He was scared about Veruca.

What if he failed her? What if this whole year of vigorously training for a better life for them would go to waste with a fall? What if everything—

Another text.

**> >Also, Veruca wanted me to tell you that she’s proud of you <3**

Suddenly, everything was relieved. He remembered her, he remembered who she was, he remembered the way she’d be when he was stressed. He remembered that she loved him regardless.

And that’s all he needed.

Viktor and Yuuri were on the ice now, microphones in hand to lean in the crowd. They were light-hearted, of course, echoes of laughter and joy bounced against the cobblestone and concrete as Yuri rose to his feet.

It was time.

“Alright, we all know what you’re really here for,” Yuuri finally announced, laughing softly with the audience.

“Me,” Viktor said simply. Laughter again.

“Nah, that’s what I’m here for.” There were audible awing from the crowd, and Yuri rolled his eyes.

_We get it, you’re married._

“Anyways,” Yuuri continued. “Let’s begin!” The cheering started in an uproar, and before it got too loud, he made sure to include one final sentence. “Please give a warm welcome to Yuri Plisetsky!”

He was past the curtains by the time his name trailed across the ice. And, as he stepped onto the ice, the world went silent in his ears. His eyes scanned the left of the entrance, and he saw her, bouncing in her seat with a handmade sign that he’d never seen before that was enough to melt the ice.

“I LOVE MY PAPA!” it reads.

As Yuri began his first couple laps around the rink, he paused in front of Veruca, leaning across as she jumped up to give her a tight hug – for good luck. “Go on, Papa,” she giggled. “Go skate.”

It was all he needed.

With a deep breath, he made his way to the centre, and with one stroke of keys, the ice show began its debuting.

**********************************************************************

**THE THEME FOR THEIR ENTIRE ICE SHOW:**

**Their daughters.**

**********************************************************************

There was a certain emotion that only happens when you’re dressing up for a wedding that happens to be your own. It’s a lingering kind of feeling – perhaps a liminal space – but there was a tender kind of longing at the heart that made it too distinct from a simple space.

Yuri loved it. He loved the life it leads, he loved the people he sees, the celebration, the singing, and the person on the other side. They were going to last this time anyway, so they might as well just tie the knot.

“Do I really have to wear this?”

Some things didn’t seem to change. Yuri looked over, seeing the eleven year old cross her arms with an eyebrow raised as she leaned against the doorframe. She looked beautiful in a dress; it wasn’t common to see, but she seemed a little more at ease since she knew who it was for.

Yuri fixed his suit in the mirror before he looked back – the only thing they were missing now were their shoes. He smiled. “We’ve been over this.”

“I know, I know, I just figured I’d try one more time.”

Yuri chuckled softly. “You know, patience leads to a lot of rewards. You’d be amazed at how things tend to work out if you try to work with life instead of fighting it.” His voice was particularly light then, particularly full of life. He was talking about other things at the exact same time.

Veruca shrugged, not saying anything until Yuri simply leaned down a little to where they were eye to eye. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, you can put a pair of shorts on underneath. I’m bringing spare clothes for you for the after party, so you can change when we leave. And if you behave in that, you get an extra slice of cake. How does that sound?”

She grinned, the child’s eyes glowing around the idea. She played with the idea in her head for just a brief moment before she nodded, a little more bubbly again. “That sounds good.”

Yuri smiled warmly at her, gently petting her cheek with his fingers a few times before he stood back up and pet her hair. “You just need to find happiness in the little things. If you can do that, life will change for you completely.”

“What would you find happiness in, Papa?” she asked. “Mr. Altin?”

He smiled at her, his heart warm as he just leaned down to kiss her on the top of her head.

 

* * *

 

Otabek was used to finding happiness in the little things. He did it to bring happiness to his family. He did it to bring happiness to his country. He’s doing it now to marry the love of his life.

This wedding was just proof of what happiness brought him.

After he was ready he didn’t remember much of what happened, but he did see a reflection of himself in the mirror. There was a person there that he didn’t recognise – someone that was much brighter, much livelier, and overall much happier. He smiled with a deep breath, tilting his head around to make sure he didn’t miss a spot when shaving, and that’s when he glanced down at the sink.

There was no simpler way to put it: life was perfect.

“Papa—a!”

Completely, wonderfully, perfect.

Otabek looked at the child, smiling wide as he did as he knelt down to be on her level. “Yes, Aisha?”

She grinned with her teeth showing, swishing her dress around and dancing a little in place. “You’re taking too long. We’re gonna be late! I wanna have a sister already!”

Otabek just laughed lightly, about to speak but was suddenly cut off by a warm voice. “I guess that’s one way to tell you to hurry.”

He took a deep breath, looking up at the green eyes staring down at him. After all this time, they were still so, so strong. “Isn’t it bad luck to see each other before the wedding starts?”

There was a brief giggle, then a simple shake of the head. “In outfit, Otabek. In outfit. Even then, it’s not like you’ve not already seen me in it.”

Nothing was said at that moment, then Otabek just nodded as he stood up again. That’s a good point. He looked down at his little girl with a reassuring smile, before nudging her gently. “Don’t worry, you and Veruca will be sisters real soon. Go on now, it’s going to be a great day.”

Aisha gave him an enthusiastic look, before nodding with a bounce and obeying what her father said. She followed the Plisetskys out the door, before the four of them got into the car to leave.

**********************************************************************

**WHERE THEY STAND:**

**Newlyweds – just newlyweds – but they were married long before.**

**********************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes that was kinda lazy of me to recycle the first scene but it just fit so well I couldn’t resist. Anyways!! It’s finished! Once again I want to give a warm and heartfelt thank you to abbywritestrash for being my beta throughout this whole fic – seriously, she’s wonderful – and thank you for my friend Heather for roleplaying with me to give me this idea!  
> I also want to thank you guys once again for going on another little adventure with me. I’m so proud I made it through this fic (for a while I really thought I wouldn’t there) and I’m so proud of you guys for once again being so supportive of me and just wonderful with your comments and kudos. Without you guys, I probably wouldn’t have been able to finish this fic. Another special thanks once again to Abby for her incredible work as a beta and for my best friend, Lily, for showing me what it feels like to love after so much time. And I want to thank you once again – a very sincere and special thank you – for reading and giving this story your time and energy every step of the way. With that, as Lilacs starts to finish on Spotify, I want to tell you once again how much I love and appreciate you and I thank you so much for coming with me.   
> This has been Five Petaled Lilacs.   
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.   
> Much love,   
> Elena.


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